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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29302989">A Comfortable Silence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillylecters/pseuds/lillylecters'>lillylecters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Master/Servant, Poor Sansa Stark, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Tywin Lannister Being an Asshole</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:40:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,855</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29302989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillylecters/pseuds/lillylecters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tywin Lannister is becoming distracted by his new cupbearer, Meela. He tells himself that it's lust, but it becomes clearer and clearer that Meela means more to him than he cares to admit. </p><p>Sansa Stark no longer wears that name. Instead, she hides under the guise of Meela Smythe. She tells herself that she is comfortable in Tywin's company because he offers her a sliver of protection, but it's becoming clear that something else is pulling her toward him. </p><p>AU: Sansa escaped from King's Landing with Arya and Gendry and was chosen from a crowd to be Lord Tywin Lannister's cupbearer. What was she to do, refuse?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tywin Lannister &amp; Sansa Stark, Tywin Lannister/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>362</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lewd</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to my first post on AO3! </p><p>I wrote this for myself but decided to post it in case it makes someone else happy, haha. </p><p>In this universe, Sansa escaped from King's Landing with Arya and Gendry, and she becomes Tywin's cupbearer (not Arya). You can imagine her at whatever age you want - canonically she would be quite young, but I wrote this with her aged up to 18-20 in my head. That's pretty much all you need to know! I'd love to hear some feedback.</p><p>CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains a description of a sexual assault.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tywin hadn’t slept with a woman in ages. Of course, he had fucked whores since Joanna’s passing. But the distraction of insolent and incapable children had kept him from finding the time to be discreet in recent months. He was very particular about his whores; there would be no rumor that he had ever entered the brothel. There would be no child. </p><p>His new cupbearer, with her blossoming body, brought the subject to the forefront of his mind. He had chosen her out of the crowd, like all his servants while he stayed at Harrenhal, based on her demeanor. Many women shouted at him, even tried to grab him with their disgusting paws as he surveyed the lot of which he would choose his temporary staff. Not Meela, though. Meela stood quietly to the side, hands clasped in front of her, eyes downcast. He recognized the body language of an ideal servant when he saw it. </p><p>Meela had improved in appearance since he plucked her from the refuse. A daily meal and a place to rest her head at night improved her sickly pallor and emaciated frame. She was not the healthiest of women in his service, but her cheeks glowed faintly pink now and again and her wrists didn’t seem like they could snap with a small amount of force. He rolled his eyes internally. He was only capable of seeing things, even beautiful things, in relation to how easily he could destroy them. </p><p>As his cupbearer approached him with care, his eyes were drawn to her budding breasts. It was clear she tried to conceal them, no doubt for her own safety. But the tattered gown she wore was too small for her body as it restored itself to health. Not caring if she noticed him staring, he slowly looked up to meet her eyes. Gods, they were a brilliant blue. The memory of a childhood tale of a king made from ice made the hairs on his arms stand up. He looked away. </p><p>“Have you ever heard the story of the ice king?” he asked lazily as she hesitantly approached to pour his drink. To his surprise, she nodded her head yes. He raised his eyebrows.<br/>
“Oh?” he intoned. She never broke her focus from pouring the wine.<br/>
“Yes, my Nan told it to me when I was small. I was very frightened of him.” The ghost of a memory passed over her face, and she stepped away from the table and placed the decanter on its stand.<br/>
“Northern, then?” he responded. She clasped her hands in front of her and kept her eyes downcast, which irritated him. Was he so terrible to look at?<br/>
“Yes, my Lord. A village near Winterfell.” She offered no more information. He narrowed his eyes, but she wasn’t looking.<br/>
“I’m sure you’re aware that the North is in rebellion. Should I be worried that you’re passing along information?” At that, her head snapped up to meet his harsh gaze. She looked… well, she looked furious.<br/>
“No, my Lord. My family and the other Northmen abandoned me, I harbor no support for the region.” He felt himself growing hard. Intimidation, especially towards young women, stroked his ego.<br/>
“I see. In any case, if I notice you lingering during strategy meetings I’ll run you through with my sword.” Her eyes never left him, and she gave a small nod.<br/>
“Of course, my Lord.” Carefully, she left his quarters and shut the door behind her. </p><p>Sansa was barely out of the room before she started shaking. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she made her way through the narrow passages to the laundry station. She would not be able to mend with her fingers shaking so wildly, that was for sure. She put her energy into stirring the vats of boiling water and clothes. </p><p>Stupid, she thought to herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Opening her mouth was a mistake. She should have dropped something to make a distraction or given simpler answers. She had given away far too much away. </p><p>It was a precarious situation, living in close quarters with arguably the most powerful man in the realm. The same man who would ship her to King’s Landing in the blink of an eye if he knew her real identity. Meela was the name of a servant girl who had been killed by a bear when Sansa was eleven or so. </p><p>The memory of the conversation replayed itself quickly in her mind. Why had he asked about the ice king? Why in the name of the Seven had she answered yes? She shut her eyes in frustration and blew air out through her nose. Now was not the time to lose her fiery red temper, especially not with herself. She was under enough pressure. </p><p>The conversation plagued Tywin. If you could call a sentence or two exchange a conversation, that is. By all accounts, she seemed a normal peasant girl, but something was off about her. A large part of him believed it was because he wanted to fuck her. At least once he let himself think about touching that soft hair and gripping that round ass. He let himself be fooled that it was his attraction to her that made him feel strangely towards her. He would come to regret that. </p><p>Tywin’s cupbearer stayed carefully away from his strategy meetings, and he came to regret striking fear in her. He had another servant call for her services while several officials sat around his large table. Visibly uncomfortable, Meela entered the room with her decanter, pouring all the men wine and then standing by the decanter table, waiting to be called on again. He could actually see her breathing from across the room, that’s how labored it was. She probably thought this was a trap of some kind, but Tywin had only been terrorizing her for fun when he accused her of spying. </p><p>After an hour or so of service, it became apparent to Tywin that he was not the only man taken by her soft frame, piercing eyes, and delicate features. Two of his generals were eying her suggestively, making no show as to hide their predilections. General Highwater almost reached Tywin’s breaking point, though, when he called Meela over for another cup of wine only to grab her right hand while she poured with her left, pulling her in close. She shuttered, and he yanked her closer and whispered something in her ear before letting her go. There were eight men in the room, and it was busy enough conversationally that the event went unnoticed by everyone but Tywin. He felt his temper flare but let it cool as an important question was asked by one of his aids. Stupid, he thought to himself. This was war, he didn’t have time to galavant about saving innocent maidens. She wouldn’t even be a maiden, for that matter. Harrenhaal was notorious for violence of all kinds, sexual notwithstanding. Not that it mattered, she was nothing to him. He gave a sharp look at General Highwater before launching into an explanation of the end of their campaign. </p><p>Three more hours passed with Tywin paying less and less attention to Meela as the debate over strategy wore on. If he had been looking, he would have seen her shaking. He noticed it when she poured a glass for Major Lemond, though. Everyone did. As she leaned over the table to pour, his hand found its way down her ass and up to her most sensitive parts. The shock of the violation threw Meela off balance. A more seasoned cupbearer would have learned to deal with things like that, but Tywin reminded himself that she wasn’t actually a trained cupbearer as he watched the entire pitcher of wine fall into the lap of the man sitting next to Lemond. This man, Tywin didn’t care enough to remember his name, immediately stood up and slapped Meela so hard that Tywin could see blood on the man’s hand as he drew it back to himself. Meela sank to her knees, uncomprehending everything that had happened in the past ten seconds. He paused for a millisecond, watching Meela’s stunned face staring emptily at a point in front of her, blood dripping down her bruised lip. </p><p>Sometimes anger was so controlling of Tywin that he didn’t feel it anymore. This was one of those moments. Later, he explained this away by acknowledging that Meela was his property, and disrespecting her in front of him was an assault to his name and station. At the moment, though, Tywin was blinded in rage on her behalf. </p><p>His anger was not the kind that scares people because of its volume. His anger terrified everyone in his presence because it displayed a controlled fury on his face and quietness about him. He stood up abruptly, as did the other men at the table. </p><p>“Out, now,” he growled, pointing at the door to his study. His strategy team was clearly confused. In their minds, it was Meela he should send away, maybe even behand or behead, but he was clearly indicating that the men were not currently in his favor. Highwater straightened his shirt and collected his things. The other men, sheep, followed suit. Meela sat quietly, still as a statue, staring at nothing as the men exited around her. Tywin was fine with the fact that they thought he was going to beat her senseless. That was why he was angry, after all, someone had disrespected him through his property, and that’s all she was. The property could be beaten into accepting lewd grabs and gestures. None of that was true, though. When the last man exited his study he slowly shut the door behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Leer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Sansa and Tywin become even more entwined. Not physically, though Tywin wishes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you again to every person that left a comment on Chapter 1! I had no idea if anyone but me would be into this concept, and I'm happy to be creating with you all! Enjoy :-)</p><p>CONTENT WARNING: explicit language and discussion of previous chapter's sexual assault</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sansa was desperately trying not to wet herself. She had never been so afraid. Not when she was smuggled out of King’s Landing, not when she watched as Arya was kidnapped and Sansa realized she was being taken to the dreaded Harrenhal. The palpable anger radiating from Tywin Lannister was directed at her, and the terror gripped her so tightly she was physically unable to move or even breathe. She sat on her knees, regretting that dusty floorboards would be her last view in this world. Not even the sound of Tywin clearing his throat as he sat in a nearby chair caused her to move.</p><p>“Meela.” Absolutely nothing.</p><p>“Meela, look at me,” he commanded. Her fixed gaze on the nothingness ahead of her was starting to irritate him.</p><p>“If you do not look at me this instant, I will do all of the horrible things you are currently imagining me doing.” He gave her a moment to digest. Her posture relaxed by a fraction of an inch, and she seemed to regain control of her body, slowly. Her hands moved slightly, and finally she turned her head to look at him. He reached out to pass her a kerchief, the blood dripping down her chin keeping him from calming down completely. He could feel her skepticism; up until a moment ago, she was under the impression she was about to receive the beating of a lifetime. Literally, the final beating of her lifetime. Meela was unusually smart, though, and seemed to detect that continuing to display her fear was unacceptable. A mask went up, and she moved to the kerchief from him, applying it gently to her split lip.</p><p>He was impressed by the recovery, even if it was not quick enough for his standards. It was his turn to stare at nothing as he regained complete control over his anger. Unprompted, Meela stood shakily. She began clearing off the wine cups from the table and tidying up after the horde of men that had been in his study. Eventually there was nothing left to set back in its place, so she put herself back in hers. She went to stand by the decanter’s stand, once more placing her arms in front of her and waiting to serve. Tywin watched all of this in fascination before deciding to shatter the calm of the moment. </p><p>“What did Lord Highwater say to you?” Tywin asked coolly. Sansa did not want to answer. The words would make her sick, as she had almost been in that instant. Once more taking into account Tywin’s lack of patience for fear, she replied as quickly as she could make herself, which was after a slight pause.</p><p>“He…” she cleared her throat. Tywin could see the disgust written on her face as she struggled to repeat the words. “He said that he knew I was dirty and would enjoy… pleasuring him.” The words didn’t feel real. Sansa tried to think about other things, to take herself out of this moment. Tywin didn't know why he was charmed by the fact she couldn't say "sucking his cock." It was obvious that was what she meant. He supposed it was his physical attraction to her innocence, which he avoided reminding himself the truth of. He frowned, detecting that she had withheld something. </p><p>“And?” he asked. She silently cursed him for knowing that was not all. Another pause, and then a deep breath.</p><p>“He also said he was going to come find me and fuck me better than you do.” Silence hung in the air as Sansa tried to remain calm. In truth, she didn’t think Tywin cared enough to keep that from happening. To her surprise, he let out a long sigh.</p><p>He didn’t want her under the illusion that he cared for her. He didn’t, really. He was contemplating fucking her soon, but he had to tell himself that she was nothing, scum. Her only importance came from her connection to him.</p><p>“Men are not allowed to touch my property without my permission. Lord Highwater, Lord Lemond, and the man who hit you all disrespected me, and I will make it known to them and every other man who was in the room that bad things will happen if anyone touches my property again.” Sansa sighed inwardly. It was insulting and demeaning, of course. At this moment, in this circumstance, her existence was valueless other than her association to Tywin Lannister. But that meant that she was safer than she originally thought. He could do whatever he wanted to her, and for a moment she was convinced that that would extend to killing her on the spot. She was not their plaything, she was <em>his</em>. He was the only one she had to fear, not the rotten men who violated her in front of the Seven. Sansa had maintained eye contact with him for an impressive amount of time, but finally looked away.</p><p>“Yes, my Lord,” she replied. There was a hint of gratitude that made Tywin’s heart beat quicker. He wanted to fuck her, that was all.</p><p>“You are dismissed,” he said with an absent-minded flick of his hand. Sansa walked to the door, but before exiting she turned to face him one more time. Despite the complications of this situation, she was still a high born lady that was in some ways saved by this man. Her kind heart and lady-like instinct betrayed her shrewd mind.</p><p>“Thank you, my Lord,” she said with a small curtsey. She sealed her fate with that gesture, not knowing the cost.</p><p>-</p><p>They settled into a comforting routine, though neither of them would admit it. As long as no other advisors or men were around, Sansa relaxed in the quiet of his company. It was warm in insulated study, unlike every other room in the castle, thanks to its unique location about the kitchen. Sansa absorbed the duties of a full time servant; starting and adding wood to the fire, cleaning up after meals, asking “is there anything else, my Lord?” and obliging whatever it was he had her do just so she would stay in the room.</p><p>Tywin loved to watch her move. At first, he had struggled to control himself and almost sent her away on more than one occasion. Now though, his lust had settled. It wasn’t gone; the right view of her figure or hair falling down around her face could send him into visions of grabbing her and finally taking her. Still, now her presence was more of a general comfort. Lust aside, her demeanor was as pure as a spring flower. She spoke softly and kindly, not sniveling like it seemed every other servant did. She had the perfect balance of timidity and friendliness, knowing somehow when he wanted her to stand in the corner invisible and when she was to move about cleaning and responding to occasional comments. </p><p>She would not initiate conversation, and Tywin didn’t mind. They didn't exactly conversate; he was a quiet man when he was trying to think and she was a quiet girl. He didn't know that her silence was not entirely natural; more of an acquired trait to keep herself safe. Still, it seemed as though Meela was even more attuned to his moods than he was.</p><p>“Sometimes I wonder how these generals have made it this far in life,” he mused one day, tossing a letter on his desk and moving to stand in front of the fire. Meela poured him a cup of hot tea and brought it to his side. He frowned at first, wondering why she hadn’t chosen wine, but then he remembered saying that hot tea was a better balm for irritation than wine because it was better to have a clear head when planning retribution. This was weeks ago. He smiled inwardly, careful not to show that he was pleased, as he took the cup from her. He didn't think he imagined the shiver that went down her arm when his hand brushed against hers as he took the cup. He decided to ignore this so he could remain in her presence and not send her out. Meela ducked away to busy herself with something else but eventually returned to refill his cup and add another log to the fire. She was making it increasingly difficult to ignore his thoughts about fucking her when she was on her knees below him. He looked at the ceiling and wondered how much more of this he could take when he heard her quiet soprano voice say “Is the title of general earned or bestowed?” He stopped dead. </p><p>“Bestowed. Why do you ask?” he asked, He leered over her. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and soft features and he forgot what they had even been talking about.</p><p>“I was just thinking about what you said earlier, my Lord. I apologize for the distraction.”</p><p>Distraction indeed, he thought. Outwardly, she looked normal. But Tywin and all his perceptive powers noticed the rapid pulse visible in her neck. Like a rabbit, he thought. He liked his cupbearer, but there were lines that must not be crossed. He considered scaring her again but realized that he didn’t actually want to be rid of her presence.</p><p>“You would do well to remember that cupbearers are also bestowed with the grace of service, and that privilege can be taken away at any moment.” There. He was satisfied with the right amount of sarcasm and threat. Her mouth hung open in surprise for a moment, gods, that mouth, what he would do-</p><p>“Of course, my Lord,” she said quietly, turning back to the fire. This time he was certain he didn’t imagine the chill running down her spine. Excellent.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Look</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sansa re-groups with Arya and Gendry, but it's not as pleasant as she hoped it would be.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back!<br/>This chapter is really different, I hope y'all still like it! It's heavy on plot development and back story. I went ahead and mentioned some things about the situation that you might've forgotten if you're like me and haven't read or watched in a while.<br/>Oh and another thing! I never made it clear how old Sansa is. Given her behavior in this chapter it's more obvious that she's in the 18-21 range. Her canonical age would be maybe 14 or 15, so if you want to imagine that go ahead, but I did write with a mature Sansa in mind.</p><p>There is unfortunately not as much Tysan as usually write but I do have to explain how they all ended up here. I hope you enjoy :-)</p><p>No content warnings for this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re hiding something,” Arya accused as she bit into a mottled crust of bread. Sansa tried not to gag and once more thanked the Seven for the privilege of a slightly softer life inside the ruined castle walls. It was all she could do to repress the guilt she felt for having to leave her sister to dodge the guards and endure backbreaking labor. Gregor Clegane, the scourge of Harrenhal, was driven out by Lord Tywin, but the Lannister guards were hardly better sometimes. Torture was less common but not gone entirely.</p><p>“I am not! What would I even be hiding?” Sansa shot back, anger rising in her throat. Of course Arya was picking a fight.</p><p>“You just don’t say much about the Old Lion. Are you getting comfortable with him?” Sansa deliberately ignored the suggestive look on her sister’s face. Sansa and Arya had hated each other once, when they were children, but that was when their lives as ladies shielded them from the reality of the world. Now Sansa was desperate to cling to the one family member she could lay eyes on, but that particular family member made it quite difficult to be grateful sometimes. Gendry stepped in. </p><p>“We’re all making sacrifices,” he pleaded. </p><p>“And exactly what kinds of sacrifices do you think that I’m making?” Sansa asked, the color in her neck going red. </p><p>“No, not that,” Gendry amended before Arya got the chance to worsen things. Sansa tried to calm her inner flame. She didn’t get to see her sister very often, only on days when Tywin was occupied with long strategy meetings or traveling. Sansa didn’t attend the bigger meetings any longer, and for reasons she couldn’t fathom, he hadn’t requested her presence at them. An irrepressible voice in the recesses of her head asked if it was to curry favor with her, but what favor could Tywin Lannister possibly need from her except-</p><p>She pulled Arya close, ignoring her insolence. </p><p>“I love you. I’m going to find us a way out of here. We escaped one hell scape, we can do it again.” Arya rolled her eyes and chose not to comment on the fact that neither of them had been responsible for their escape from King’s Landing, which made Sansa feel better. If she was joking about Sansa’s sentimental nature, things couldn’t be too bad. “Walk with me?” she asked Gendry. </p><p>They discussed Arya’s wellbeing; relatively well, all things considering. Arya, or “Arry,” as she was known under the guise of a pre-pubescent boy, was learning quickly at the iron forge. Her tongue had almost gotten her into trouble on multiple occasions, but Gendry managed to keep her safe. </p><p>“I wish I could properly thank you,” said Sansa as she walked with Gendry to find an addition to their meager supply of bread. The black market for food on the Harrenhal grounds was the only market. It was a prison labor camp more than anything else, so Gendry and Sansa both learned quickly to keep their heads down, work themselves to exhaustion, and scavenge for food whenever the opportunity presented itself. Today, they sought to trade with some chainmail Gengry had smuggled out of the forge.</p><p>“No need for thanks, I’m happy to have something to think about other than… the rats,” said Gendry, taking a large gulp of air. Sansa hated how miserable his fear made him at times and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“I’m going to get us out of here, and that includes you,” she promised. “I just have to find someone with the right allegiances,” she said quietly. Gendry understood. Thinking about these two as some of the most powerful women in the North still baffled him. It had been one thing to learn that “Arry” was actually a girl; he suspected that for a while before she confirmed it by refusing to piss in front of him. It had been another thing entirely to learn that her older sister Lady Sansa was following along behind them in the woods. Lady Sansa was older than Arya by several years and stood no chance of passing as a boy, though the farther north the caravan traveled the more feasible it seemed. Lady Sansa wasn’t cut out for surviving outdoors. Even when Arya finally confessed to hoarding food to bring to her sister every evening, Gendry was still troubled by how thin and frail Lady Sansa looked. He almost believed that Harrenhal had been a blessing to the trio in that way. </p><p>Gendry hadn’t known what to do the day Gregor’s men kidnapped the rag tag gang of boys and men to be taken to Harrenhal. Lady Sansa remained undetected thanks to her distance from the rest of the group and Gendry wondered if she would continue traveling north to seek help or follow them inside. She answered that question for him when she walked into the grounds on her own accord, blending in with women returning from the lakeside who foraged for food. She followed her sister into a literal lion’s den without a second thought, which caused Gendry to question his notions about the fragility of maidens. Still, he now wondered if she would have made it any further on her own. It wasn’t likely given the state she was in upon their arrival. It was impossible not to notice the physical change in Lady Sansa; even with the constant scramble for food, she had gained weight and color bloomed in her cheeks. It concerned Gendry, though, because if he had noticed, other men would as well. Maybe even Lord Tywin. </p><p>“You’re smarter than I could ever hope to be,” said Gendry with an amicable smile. Sansa appreciated the compliment and gave his arm a light squeeze. They were both thinking about her decision to follow Arya into Harrenhal, but Sansa felt quite differently about the situation. In truth, it wasn’t a choice - her entire mind and body refused to accept the loss of another family member and followed Arya without thinking. A crack found its way into Sansa’s heart the day that she watched their father die in King’s Landing. This unsteady foundation caused her to cling to Arya like a piece of driftwood in the ocean. The more shrewd decision would have been to seek help; find her brother. She wished she had given it more thought before walking right into one of the most dreaded places in Westeros, but it was what her heart demanded.</p><p>Sansa and Gendry were on their way back to the dilapidated stable that Arya, Gendry, and gods know how many other young men shared when something caught Sansa’s attention. Arya was talking to a tall, eerie man in shackles. Some people were trapped in Harrenhal by nature of the fact that the land surrounding the Gods Eye Lake had been burned and the ruined castle acted as a kind of trade hub. Gendry, Sansa, and Arya were prisoners in the sense that traveling further without food was a death sentence, but there wasn't enough food to hoard. Others were more traditional prisoners, like this man. Sansa grabbed her sister’s arm, and was dismayed when Arya shook her off aggressively. Sansa looked at Gendry, seeming to indicate that he should use force to remove Arya from this man’s presence, but Gendry knew better. Sansa tried to remain calm as she waited for her sister to finish talking to the criminal. Finally, Arya apparently got what she needed and walked on. Sansa grabbed her arm again, unable to contain her frustration. </p><p>“What part of discreet don’t you understand? And what could you possibly need from a prisoner?” she hissed in her ear. Arya whirled around and spat at her older sister’s feet. </p><p>“This is none of your business. Go back to the castle and keep serving Lord Lannister. However it is you do that.” </p><p>She opened her mouth to scream at her sister how much she hated her but suddenly tasted soot and sweat in her mouth. Gendry had moved behind Sansa and wrapped his hand around her mouth to keep her from screaming. In the moment, she could have killed both of them. Let them be tortured to death for all she cared. The rational part of her brain was still present, and it realized how smart Gendry had been to keep them from making a scene. And she had just berated Arya about discretion. </p><p>Gendry took his hand away from her mouth quickly, unbelieving that he had just accosted Lady Sansa. Before he could say anything, she spoke, significantly calmer. </p><p>“Thank you. She just knows what to say to make me angry,” Sansa said wearily. Arya had scurried off, no doubt to continue threatening their precarious existences as wolves in a lion’s den. Gendry was still appalled at what he’d done, so he just nodded. </p><p>“Who is that? Why was she talking to someone in chains? Doesn’t she know they keep a closer eye on the prisoners than the rest of us?” Gendry didn’t know which question to answer first. </p><p>“Well, all I can say is his name’s Jaqen and he’s right creepy. Arya, well, she saved his life, actually. I dunno why she’d be talking to him though,” he said, afraid to look at the rage on Sansa’s face. It wasn’t there. </p><p>“Gods,” she said, putting her forehead into her palms. She let out a long breath. </p><p>“I have to get back,” she said, and even his untrained ears detected fear in her voice. “Just keep an eye on her. I don’t even know what to say about her new friend.” Gendry smiled a little at that. </p><p>“She’s been through hells already. She’ll be fine.” The thought made Sansa want to grimace, but she decided to part from Gendry with a semi-pleasant expression. It was the least she could do. </p><p>-</p><p>Tywin fumed. He witnessed Meela’s encounter with the iron worker purely by happenstance. From the narrow window of his study, he would occasionally take a glimpse of the thunderous sky outside to see when he might count on the next rain. </p><p>Meela’s shocks of red hair called to him out of the corner of his eye and he examined the courtyard to see her walking beside a blackened iron worker. As she hurried along with her handsome young match he wondered if the dark haired iron forger was fucking her properly. Tywin gritted his teeth, unable to stop himself from thinking about what “properly” meant. It surely included hair pulling, gripping flesh, and subservience (he would’ve grown hard if seeing her beauty amidst the chaos hadn’t done it for him already), but he couldn’t ignore the emerging desires to stroke her hair, run his thumb across her cheek, and hear her small voice moan in both pleasure and pain. </p><p>These thoughts alarmed Tywin. </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lash</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tywin's anger has consequences for Sansa. Painful ones.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back to another chapter. This one is finally a little longer - I think I'm getting the hang of this? I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and as always, your feedback is so important to me! </p><p>There's only mild Tysan interaction in this, but think of it as a slow burn leading up to... let's just say it'll be worth it. </p><p>CONTENT WARNING: graphic descriptions of physical abuse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before Sansa could enter Tywin’s study, another servant stood in front of her.<br/>
“Excuse me,” she said politely. The servant did not move, and Sansa hesitated.<br/>
“Meela?” he asked. She nodded. “You’ve been instructed to work in the scullery for the time being.” She tried not to let the hurt in her eyes bleed into her face.<br/>
“For the time being?” she asked, forgetting the repercussions for her question. They were immediate, though. The man hit her with the back of his hand squarely across her cheek. She grabbed it, still unused to being struck.<br/>
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said quietly as she took a step backward.<br/>
“Go to the scullery. Now,” he said flatly. Sansa nodded and walked away, cheeks burning from the slap. The pain didn’t matter; it was the humiliation that disturbed her. Her highborn ways were not easily abandoned, and as a child she was only hit when she was bad, and even then, it was never like this.</p><p> A strong woman pulled her aside as soon as she entered the loud, steaming room. </p><p>“Put this on, don’t complain, and don’t burn yourself,” the woman shouted. Still in awe that this was happening, Sansa merely nodded and followed instructions. </p><p>This world was harsher than the one she had just come from. Mistakes were not tolerated, and unfortunately for Sansa, cleaning copper pots did not come easily to her. Harrenhal introduced her to hard work, but this was backbreaking. Sometimes it required getting on your hands and knees and using every ounce of strength in your body. Sansa was not built the way the other girls were; she was raised to value delicacy in a woman’s form. Every night she stumbled to the servants’ quarters and instantly fell asleep on her pallet. She no longer had the energy to stay awake worrying about Arya and missing her family. </p><p>As she scrubbed the floor of the great dining hall one day, she failed to notice Lord Tywin striding by the entrance to the massive room. He stopped to watch her work and regretted it. Her beautiful hair was piled on top of her head and covered with a scullery rag and she wore the thick linen garments that must have scratched her skin. Still unaware of his presence, Sansa stopped scrubbing and sat up to stretch. She tucked a loose strand of hair back up into her headscarf and resumed work. Tywin didn’t enjoy seeing the blood and blisters on her hands. He tried to remind himself that she did this to herself, but as he watched her work, something akin to guilt crept in. It was unfamiliar.</p><p>Suddenly Sansa noticed the man at the entrance to the hall and looked up. She froze, eyes locking with his. This was a tricky game. Sansa missed her work as a cupbearer, but in quiet moments she thought she might also be missing his solid presence. At least as a servant of Lord Tywin she had a crumb of protection. The other servant girls told her that the guards talked about what they wanted to do to her but stayed away for fear of angering the Great Lion. The feeling of being possessed was not unwelcome. Not here, where she stood no chance of defending herself alone. </p><p>Sansa knew not to say anything, but hoped she could communicate with her eyes that she was sorry for whatever had caused him to release her. Tywin broke eye contact first, looking straight ahead as he continued walking. He noticed her crestfallen posture out of the corner of his eye and was surprised that it didn’t satisfy him. Why didn’t he want to hurt her? She was nothing. </p><p>He told himself that he sent her to the kitchens to punish her for being a slut. He refused to sleep with unclean women, and the scene he witnessed in the courtyard indicated that she was sleeping with the iron worker. At another point in his life, Tywin would have killed the boy and taken Meela for himself, willingly or not. It was better now to just forget about her. His rational mind knew that Meela was impure, but after seeing her touch scum with his own eyes his daydreams of having found an innocent to corrupt were ruined. He was disappointed in her inability to maintain his fantasies. </p><p>That wasn’t all, though. The direction that his desire was taking was deeply concerning, and he thought it better to remove her from sight before he became even more… attached. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Just a habit that needed breaking away from. It was only natural he develop something like tenderness toward a creature like Meela. She seemed to be crafted to the height of poise and respectability, knowing exactly how the best servant would behave. Of course he was drawn in; there was so much refuse and she was a gem. This train of thinking planted the seeds in Tywin’s brain that would grow into suspicion and eventually, yet another fracture in the life of Sansa Stark.</p><p>It was seeing Lord Tywin that distracted her. Sansa was usually very focused on her work, but since seeing Tywin that morning her mind was drifting. She knew that he wanted her, and that fact should have disgusted her. It did, she told herself. It did. It should have alarmed her beyond belief because she needed to lay low for her and her sister’s sake. Subconsciously, though, it didn’t alarm her at all. She found herself waking from dreams covered in sweat and throbbing in her privates, images of Tywin dominating her thoughts. She was embarrassed - not only because he was old enough to be her grandfather but also because he might as well be her executioner if he found out who she was. This to say nothing of the fact that his daughter and grandson killed her father. It was unnatural, and she tried to be kind to herself and acknowledge that everyone wants protection and he had provided it, that’s where all this was coming from. She was lying to herself, though. She was disgusting. </p><p> These were the thoughts that ran through her head as she tried to move nimbly through the kitchen carrying a boiling pot of potatoes. Had she been paying more attention, she would have seen that one of the girls was absent mindedly swinging her legs. Instead, the girl’s foot pushed Sansa on the side and the pot fell to the floor.<br/>
The kitchen filled with screams as it hit the ground and boiling water splashed in all directions, hot potatoes rolling in every direction. The scream of the head servant was the loudest, though, as he stepped in a puddle of hot water and splashed some on his legs. Sansa used her arms and hands to shield her face, and was slowly inspecting the damage when she felt a hand grab her shoulder. </p><p>“You,” growled the servant. Sansa was still staring at her outstretched hands when she felt herself being pulled away. She did note that no one else was very hurt, only scared. She followed the terrified faces of the other scullery maids as they watched the man drag her out of the kitchen. She didn’t understand that the fear on their faces was not for themselves but for her until she saw the post in the kitchen courtyard.<br/>
“Please don’t,” she began, knowing it was useless. He flung her at the base of the post and called for assistance. A Lannister guard appeared and tied her hands at the top of the post. Words refused to form in her mouth. She wanted to say things like “no, I beg you” and “I promise it won’t happen again” but their inherent futility crushed them before they could ever pass her lips. Instead she took fast, shallow breaths, only making noise when the enraged head servant ripped the back of her garment. </p><p>She felt the chilly air on her exposed back and made an involuntary audible gasp. There was no warning, no suggestion that she brace herself. One moment she felt the cool wind on her skin and the next a smack that forced a scream out of her body.<br/>
“Quiet,” he growled. “This isn’t even the whip.” The lash came down only six times, but she thought it felt more like twenty. The leather bit into and bruised her skin but she managed to at least shut her mouth. Sound still tore through her. It hurt worse than anything she had ever felt before, but he was right. It wasn’t the sharp whip they used to flog people. By the sixth lash she was slumped on the post, leaning against it for support, breathing heavily through her nose. She was afraid to move and send more snakes of pain through her body.</p><p>Sansa desperately tried to keep her tears back, biting her lip so hard it bled, relieved to have another source of pain to distract her from the welts growing on her back. Humiliation wasn’t a strong enough word for what Sansa felt. She knew violence like this existed, but to have it performed on her made her feel worthless. She didn’t speak this language; it was too far from the soothing touches and caresses of her upbringing to make any sense. It scared her terribly. Not only that, she was ashamed of having cried out. They already thought she was weak, but now… she paused and suddenly realized that her dress was around her waist, leaving her breasts exposed to the men above her. Her face burned and she pressed her lips together to keep from breaking out into sobs. Worse than being hit, worse than being seen as weak, Sansa hated being exposed. Modesty was all she had known until arriving in King’s Landing and seeing all parts of people on display. She thought of how horrified her mother would be if she could see her daughter and squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears streaking down her face.</p><p>The head servant untied her and dragged her back into the kitchen while the other women watched.<br/>
“You are all warned - clumsiness has no place here. The next infraction won’t be met with such mercy.” The shame of her bare breasts made Sansa’s stomach lurch. She hadn’t eaten dinner but knew the contents of her stomach were on the way up. She held her hand over her mouth to keep from retching on the kitchen floor, her other hand trembling while trying to cover herself.<br/>
“Back to work,” he said with disgust. The wave of nausea passed and a middle-aged woman helped her to the corner of the kitchen. The woman mended the fabric of Sansa’s ruined garment to the best of her abilities, at least managing to bring the sides back up around her shoulders. </p><p>-</p><p>“What in the gods name…” Tywin mumbled to himself as he finished writing a letter. The screams of the tortured were normal ambiance for this gods forsaken place, but rarely did he hear cries so close to his study. It didn’t last long. Whoever it was was impressively resilient after the first wail of pain. 

His new cupbearer, a girl of about Meela’s age, stared blankly at the wall, unaware that Tywin needed more wine or that he had said anything. He rolled his eyes. “You, refill my cup this instant or tomorrow that will be your screams.” The girl rushed over to him and poured a glass before returning to her place on the wall. Tywin was annoyed that he had let his desire get in the way of having an excellent servant. He made up his mind that he would bring Meela back even if he couldn’t have her the way he wanted. He decided this unknowing that it was her voice that echoed off the castle walls.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Lend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sansa finds herself back under Tywin's care. They both have a hard time making sense of what the other person means to them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back and Happy Galentine's Day!</p><p>This chapter is a lot less painful to read than the last one. Wheels are really starting to turn in this story, and although I think this chapter is maybe a little slow, things are going to pick up in a major way in Chapter 6. </p><p>I love hearing what you all have to say and appreciate constructive criticism. Thank you again for reading and I hope there's enough Tysan angst in here to keep you happy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Meela, Lord Tywin has asked for you to be his cupbearer again.” The news came from the same man who lashed her the day before. It was hard to look at him. It was also hard to hide the utter relief, and apparently she didn’t do it well enough. “You’re lucky I don’t give you another parting gift at the post. See to it you aren’t reassigned to the scullery again. If you are, there will be consequences.” She nodded obediently and he walked away, leaving her to ponder this turn of events. </p><p>Sitting on a stone bench in the kitchen courtyard, ignoring looking in the corner where the post stood, Sansa let out a deep breath. She was glad to be out of the scullery, but inwardly she thought she might be equally as glad to see Lord Tywin again. It didn’t make sense; he was her biggest threat. One word and she would be on her way back to King’s Landing. He had a strategic military mind that sometimes involved cruelty. He wasn’t a good person, but he was terribly intelligent. His occasional quips were golden to her, a reminder of the intellectual current in highborn society. She supposed she wanted to be near him because he was a glimpse of all she had lost. </p><p>There was something about seeing the human side of power that drew her to him. She was fascinated that the man who was responsible for so much death and destruction liked his tea made a certain way. He wasn’t a good person, but he was a person. It secretly thrilled her that she was possibly the only person to see the side of him that came out when he was alone. Of course, he wasn’t actually alone, her presence often lingered in these moments. But in her own mind and she assumed in Tywin’s, she was too insignificant to count. </p><p>-</p><p>Cold fear ate at her insides on her way to Lord Lannister’s study. She didn’t know why, but it made her sick to think about Tywin’s reaction to her obvious handicap. She hadn’t slept the previous night; the pain radiating down her spine, pricking at her skin. She was well enough to walk, but her posture clearly indicated a stiff discomfort. Not only that, the angry red welts were partially visible through the back of her dress. No one had offered her a new one, she managed with the newly stitched up garment that had draped around her waist the night before. She couldn’t think about that. </p><p>Tywin heard a knock at his study door and called for the person to enter. It was Meela, almost. <br/>Tywin was skilled at keeping his face neutral, never betraying surprise, anger, or satisfaction unless he wanted to. Seeing Meela like this was so shocking that a fraction of emotion crossed his face before quickly being buried under his self-control. He could tell that Meela didn’t see it; she was clearly distracted by her embarrassment. It was plain that she was exhausted from the deep purple bags under her eyes and the slight slouch that affected her usually elegant posture. He didn’t welcome her back or say hello so she found her place beside the decanter, waiting to serve. He was able to tell she was hurt from the few steps she took inside the room. </p><p>“You’re injured,” he noted, his voice flat. He didn’t look up at her. <br/>“I’m alright, my Lord.” He didn’t like that. <br/>“What happened?” he asked, closing a book with a loud thud and moving to stand in front of the fire. This had become an indication that he wanted tea. </p><p>Sansa tried her best to move normally while making the tea but the task was made more difficult knowing that his irritation was directed at her It made her hands shake. She looked from the table where she prepared his refreshments over to the fireplace and wondered how she would make the walk without spilling the tea on herself, the ground, or him. <br/>The longer she looked, the more impossible it seemed. She couldn’t, not without her normal poise and balance. </p><p>Tywin had put his cupbearer through many trials. He was moody, unfair, and now it seemed was responsible for her physical suffering. He couldn’t try to sort out the flashes of anger and guilt that threatened to spill out of his mouth while Meela was present, so he decided to tuck his emotions neatly away and pretend he didn’t want to rip the throats out of whoever laid a hand on her. </p><p>Meela still had not responded to his question or appeared with the tea and Tywin grew impatient. He turned around to see her standing on the other side of the room, still not having moved a step. He quelled the snarl that threatened to scare her off because he wanted more information first. Tywin crossed the distance between them and looked down at her. He didn’t have to say anything. </p><p>“I’m sorry, my Lord,” she whispered. Sansa wasn’t crying, not after so many tears had been shed the previous night. Her lip quivered more from fear than sadness and she bit down on it, unaware of the effect this had on Tywin. </p><p>Gods, her face was perfect when she bit her lip like that. </p><p>“What happened?” he asked again. His tone was even more severe this time. She would give him an answer. </p><p>“I… they… I was lashed, my Lord,” she said, trying to shrink into the wall behind her. He considered turning her around to see for himself but decided against it, wishing to preserve her willingness to be in his presence. He knew she would not be comfortable after a violation like that. Besides, he hadn’t ever touched her, and a part of him wanted to feel her porcelain skin for the first time under a gentle touch, not one driven by anger.  </p><p>He almost let out a pained sigh, knowing that he was going to have to further humiliate her in order to help her. He backed away, realizing how close their bodies were. It should have turned him on, to be such a distance that he only had to lift his hand and he could touch whatever part of her he wanted. His sexual drive was mysteriously absent, though. It was replaced by a morose feeling of guilt and shame. In some ways Tywin was as low as they come, but not even he could imagine using her for her body after causing such harm. A new feeling replaced his lust. It urged him to fix the wrong he inflicted upon her even if he was within his rights to do so. He was beginning to understand that just because he could hurt Meela didn’t mean he wanted to. This, more than anything else, surprised him. </p><p>Lord Tywin walked back to his desk and sat down, breaking the tense moment. He didn’t look up at her when he spoke. </p><p>“Go and find something else to wear. You can tell the laundresses that if you come back looking like that again they’ll regret it. Understood?” he asked shortly. Sansa didn’t understand at all, but said “Yes, my Lord,” before trying to leave the room without too much distraction. “I expect more of my household staff than to present themselves to me in such a horrendous state. Oh, and tell them to give you a wash as well. I hold my staff to a cleaner standard than this.” Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. Had he just suggested she smelled?</p><p>As she made her way down the stone hallway, gripping one wall for support, she heard a crash come from the direction of Tywin’s study. It made her jump, then alarmed her as she realized he could be hurt. She ignored the pain in her back and walked quickly back to the study and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Concerned and once more not considering the consequences, she entered anyway. </p><p>The contents of Tywin’s desk lay on the ground. His ink quill snapped in half, the bottle of ink itself smashed and staining the cobblestone. He was by the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantle, the other covering his brow with his hand, messaging methodically as if he had a headache. At the sound of the door opening he jerked his head up and saw Meela’s troubled face peering in. </p><p>Neither of them spoke. If Tywin opened his mouth he would scream at her, so he kept it shut. Realizing that Lord Tywin was not in any danger and had created this mess himself, Sansa lowered her gaze and backed away, shutting the door behind her. </p><p>-</p><p>Sansa returned an hour later still moving unnaturally but clearly better now that she had found someone to put a salve on her back and gotten a new-to-her tunic. It was long sleeved, unlike the three-quarter sleeved one she had worn since becoming his cupbearer. He suspected that she was shy of the horrible purple bruises and deep red rope burn on her wrists. He had seen them when she came in earlier; there were purple finger prints blooming on her forearm. These were hidden now, the only trace a red rope burn that threatened to spill out over the sleeves. He cleared his throat. Considering how furious thinking about these superficial wounds made him confirmed that not requesting to see her back was the right decision. He would have killed someone. </p><p>Sansa poured him a glass of wine and left to retrieve his dinner from the kitchen. Neither had mentioned the scene she walked in on earlier. In truth, he had been so mad at himself he almost flipped his writing table over. He was calmer now that he had time to consider his next move. The guilt eating away at him simply wouldn’t do. It was lessened when he sent her to get new clothes, that was one way of saying he was sorry without physically having to speak. He pondered what else he could do so his brain would stop teasing him with the knowledge that he might as well have tied her up and lashed her himself. The thought made him grimace. </p><p>The comfortable silence they usually shared had not entirely returned yet. He could still feel a twinge of something unsaid between them after a full day of her serving him again. <br/>“Meela,” he said, gesturing for her to refill his wine. She did, shaking slightly, wincing when she leaned down to set the cup on his table. </p><p>“What did you do?” he asked casually. When she looked at him he thought he saw anger or frustration cross her brow but couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or someone else. She moved slightly closer toward him, and he gestured for her to sit at one of the several chairs of the large table. Both of them pretending this was normal behavior because neither wanted to disrupt the possibility of having a simple conversation. Meela sat, smoothing her tunic and being careful not to let her back touch the back of the chair. </p><p>“I dropped a pot of boiling water,” she said. She wasn’t timid about it at this moment. Had she done something truly terrible, like stealing, she would’ve been ashamed to admit it. She had no problem telling Lord Tywin what she had done because it wasn’t something worth being lashed over. </p><p>“Hm,” he replied cryptically. “You should know that servants in my care are punished for insolence and not for clumsy accidents.” He had no idea if this was true for the staff at Casterly Rock and didn’t particularly care. The goal was to let her know it wouldn’t happen again. Her eyes flicked up to his and stayed there, clearly trying to give him something in return for the offer of comfort he placed in front of her. </p><p>“I am to bed now,” he said, scooting his chair back and making ready to leave for his chambers. Meela did the same, putting everything back in its place before heading toward the door. She stopped, just before leaving, though, and turned around to look at him. Her features were tight with pain as she attempted a small curtsey despite her injury. <br/>“Thank you, my Lord,” she said softly before quickly leaving the study. She was glad she left too fast for him to ask her what for. The truth was she didn’t know. </p><p>-</p><p>Something clicked in Tywin’s head as he watched his cupbearer perform a low curtsey and then hurry away. The thought hit him so hard it was like a hammer hitting an anvil. He immediately tried to unthink it, shutting his eyes and cursing his shrewd mind, but there it was. </p><p>That curtsey. This was the second time she had done it for him. He wasn’t able to place it then but this time he allowed other thoughts to creep in and back up his suspicions. It wasn’t the ungraceful bob of a villager turned servant girl. No, he had seen that before, and only in court. It was entirely possible that his cupbearer Meela had spent time in Winterfell and picked up a noble behavior like that. She could have been trying to impress him. Another thought struck him like a bolt of white-hot lighting. Rage coursed through him, not at Meela, but at himself. “My Lord.” His servant Meela always said “my Lord” instead of “milord” or “m’lord” like every other lowborn servant he’d met in his entire life. The sound of her voice echoed through his ears. It wasn’t just the language she used. Her voice was trained to hide emotion, unlike the simpering that accompanied every young woman who had ever served him. Meela was smart, as well. She immediately picked up that he did not have time for foolish terror after he made it clear he was not going to hurt her. She had had training in that regard, as well. Bile rose in his throat as the final pieces came together. The story of the ice king. It was found in a book, and not told by oral tradition among peasants, he didn’t think. They couldn’t read. Why would she have known someone who could read? Her lovely face appeared in his mind. Finally, those eyes. Those were pure Tully eyes. Not only that, they stared at him from a Stark face. “Meela” was a highborn Stark. Tywin only needed to know which one.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Learn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tywin has to navigate conversations knowing what he does. </p><p>Sansa sees Arya again, who is once again angry.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, guys! I tried to take a lot of your feedback into account with this chapter. I've finally run out of what I already had written so now I'm writing as I go. This means I won't be updating every day, but don't worry, I do have a chapter to post tomorrow. </p><p>I hope you enjoy. Thanks in advance for all the comments! I love to hear what y'all think.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sansa detected a change in Tywin’s demeanor, which is exactly what he wanted. He was slightly more conversational - never asking her questions, but musing more openly about the things that annoyed him. </p><p>“Harrenhal is truly the mud clinging to the bottom of the shoe of the Seven Kingdoms,” he said as soon as one of his military advisors left the study. Sansa repressed a smile at the notion of Tywin using a metaphor. Objectively, it was quite funny. She weighed her response.</p><p>“Have you seen all of the Seven Kingdoms, my Lord?” It was a risky endeavor to ask a personal question. She could tell that he was in a talkative mood, though, and wanted to remain in his favor. It wouldn’t do to be sent back to the scullery. It might even be a death sentence. That was one reason she wanted to stay on his good side. The other was more mysterious. It had to do with the protection he offered but also the warm feeling in her stomach when she thought about the anger in his eyes after he saw her bruised wrists. She was beginning to understand him enough to know that that anger was directed at who hurt her, and it wasn’t motivated by the notion of someone disrespecting his property. It was the notion of someone disrespecting her. </p><p>Tywin almost smiled, glad that Meela took the bait. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough around him to ask questions. </p><p>Her anxiety lessened when she realized he was not offended by the intrusion.<br/>
“I’ve seen more of them than I care to,” he replied. “The grandeur of Westeros’ magnificent castles and cities is matched by the repugnance of its worst pits. Harrenhal is an excellent example.”</p><p>“Why is that, my Lord?” she asked. He knew she wasn’t intending to be saccharine, that’s just how she spoke. Sweet like honey. </p><p>“The duality of man, I suppose.” He didn’t actually want to have a philosophical conversation about the various locales of the Seven Kingdoms. “You’re intimately familiar with the depths of Westeros, have you experienced its highs?” he asked. He deliberately began writing a letter to make it seem as more of an offhand comment than something he was interested in knowing the answer to. </p><p>Sansa did not detect his true intentions by asking, oblivious that he was fishing for information. </p><p>“Not really, my Lord,” and it wasn’t an outright lie. She didn’t think King’s Landing counted as a pinnacle of Westerosi society. Not after she watched her father’s head roll into a basket and be lifted up triumphantly in front of a screaming crowd. She shuttered. No, she hadn’t seen any of the glory he spoke of. She took his silence as an indicator that she needed to elaborate more. “I’ve never seen the inside of Winterfell, and this is the furthest south I’ve been.” That lie felt much more obvious, so she turned around to wipe down the decanter stand. </p><p>“Never seen the inside of Winterfell,” he echoed. She tensed up. “Might that be a reason you feel little allegiance to the Starks?” He was drawing from one of the first conversations they had, when she assured him she had no northern sentiment. She swallowed, thinking about how to play this. She had to turn back around and face him, otherwise it would be even more obvious that she was hiding something. He watched as she faced him and smoothed the front of her tunic with her hands, a nervous habit. </p><p>“My family has been torn apart by this war,” she said softly. “So many dead and so many who won’t survive.” She chose her next words very carefully. “The Starks are respected by many in the North, but there is a cost,” she continued. “I’ve seen it.” The pain in her voice made him wince. </p><p>“And the Lannisters?” It was unfair to ask this. She was in his claws and a smart girl would say what it took to survive, even if it was a lie. </p><p>“Both sides are fighting this war,” she said. She immediately regretted it, but her comfort made her bold. Tywin raised his eyebrows and the look he gave her turned her insides. </p><p>“A fair assessment,” he said coolly, accepting her response. He saw her posture relax slightly. It had been a while since he last had the opportunity to admire her body. “Put another log on the fire, Meela,” he said, effectively ending the conversation. She obeyed, and he took the moment to watch her delicate hands work. They were no longer delicate in their texture. Harrenhal destroyed their smoothness, cracking, blistering, and bloodying them. She had been there long enough for the open wounds to turn to calluses. Still, they moved delicately. He understood now that this was because of her upbringing. When she knelt in front of the fire, she sat on her knees modestly. </p><p>He knew he was watching a highborn woman, a Lady, perhaps, in a way he wouldn’t have the chance to if she were in her element. He needed to seriously consider how much, if any, he wanted to touch her. He desired her, that was undeniable. He wanted to do more than just touch her, but he had waited too long and now that was out of the question. He wouldn’t ruin a highborn lady. He supposed it was likely she had already been ruined, living in Harrenhal, but he wouldn’t contribute any further. He didn’t care to think about exactly why; whether it was a chivalrous instinct or a legitimate unwillingness to debase Meela like that. </p><p>Still, there were things he could do, or she could do to him, that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. A kiss, for example, wouldn’t sate his desire, but it might place her deeper in his grasp. If he was going to get her to tell him who she was, she had to be completely dependent on him. At that, he thought of the iron worker. </p><p>“Meela, I’m having a large meeting tomorrow for most of the day and won’t require your services.” She was still on her knees in front of the fire. </p><p>“I don’t mind attending during your meetings, my Lord,” she responded. He wanted to curse her. He was offering her an out but she was too devoted to take it. </p><p>“I don’t need you distracting the men,” he replied harshly. Meela was not as schooled as he was and failed to hide the hurt written on her face. </p><p>“Yes, my Lord.” She finished her task and straightened up the space. </p><p>“You are dismissed,” he said shortly after watching her stand against the wall waiting for a command. </p><p>-</p><p>The next morning Sansa rose and gathered the food she had been hoarding for the past week since seeing Arya and Gendry. It was raining but she had no cloak, instead trying to stay as close to the castle walls to shield herself from the rain. Tywin did have a cloak and was following close behind. </p><p>She eventually made her way to a stable-like structure where several young men slept. She met the dark-haired iron worker and a young man, also with dark hair. She hugged the boy, which Tywin noted as strange. She showed them the food she gathered and they huddled under the shelter of the stable. He couldn’t hear what they were saying and growled in frustration. He wasn’t going to stand in the rain all day to watch her. To his satisfaction, the rain let up after only a few minutes. He saw Meela put her hand on the arm of the iron worker and the two set out to do something, whatever it was he had seen them doing the first time.</p><p>He didn’t know what he would do when he followed them to some secluded space where the iron worker would spread her legs and - he stopped thinking about that. He would handle that situation when it arose. </p><p>-</p><p>“Gendry, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” said Sansa, her voice breaking. She held herself together so well around Arya, but anxiety was destroying her. </p><p>“About what?” he asked, turning to face her. </p><p>She wouldn’t tell him or Arya about the lashing. She was almost better now anyways; it didn’t matter if they knew. </p><p>“There isn’t anyone here who will help us. We have to leave on our own soon but we still don’t have the supplies to survive outside the castle walls. I’m so afraid for Arya…” she broke down, burying her face in her hands. Gendry had no way to comfort her, being afraid to touch a highborn Lady. </p><p>“I’ll start collecting weapons and things,” he said, hoping to reassure her. “If we really save we could be ready to go in two weeks.” </p><p>“How will we even get out though? We can’t all three just leave the grounds.”</p><p>“You aren’t going to like this, but I think Arya’s friend will be able to help us in that way.” He was right, Sansa did not like it. She exhaled. </p><p>“Okay. I’m sorry for breaking down on you,” she said with a sniff, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. </p><p>“It’s okay, Lady Sansa,” he replied, trying to sound sure of himself. “It’ll be okay.” He couldn’t know that that was true, but she gave him a small smile anyway. </p><p>-</p><p>Tywin watched, still unable to hear their conversation and growing angrier for it. He was distracted from his anger for a moment when he saw her cry. The iron worker didn’t move to comfort her. Tywin didn’t like seeing her cry. In fact, he hated it. </p><p>He watched as she pulled herself together and they continued on their search for extra food, standing back as they traded for a crust of bread. </p><p>-</p><p>“What are you doing?” Sansa said sharply, yanking the back of Arya’s collar as she tried to sneak past Sansa and Gendry. She squirmed and twisted around and bit Sansa on the hand, causing her to yell in pain. Gendry ushered them out of the main thoroughfare, once again being the only thing in between these two and all of Harrenhal listening to them argue. </p><p>-</p><p>Finally, Tywin got the opportunity to get close enough to hear part of their conversation when the boy joined them. He stood behind an abandoned market stall where Meela and her young companion were pulled to hash things out in private. Or so they thought. </p><p>-</p><p>“That. Hurt,” said Sansa through gritted teeth. </p><p>“Good,” said Arya. “Don’t grab me like that. I could’ve stabbed you.” Sansa didn’t respond to that. </p><p>“What are you doing anyway? Sneaking around-” Sansa cut herself off. “Are you stealing?” Color rose in her cheeks. </p><p>“That’s what it takes,” Arya replied smartly. Sansa blew air out of her nose.</p><p>“I understand that being here means we have to do things that we might otherwise find morally questionable. Please, just be careful. And if you can, don’t take from people like us. Take from people who have enough.” Arya scoffed. </p><p>“No one has enough. I can’t be choosy about who I steal from. It’s us or them, you wouldn’t understand.” Sansa closed her eyes, centering herself. “Besides, at least I’m getting something out of my extra work.” Sansa’s eyes flashed open. </p><p>“Don’t,” she said sternly. “We are not having this conversation.”</p><p>“I’m just saying, if you’re getting fucked you might as well be getting paid-” Arya was cut off with a hard slap to the cheek. She didn’t say anything for a moment, only looked at her sister with cold precision. </p><p>“I hope hitting me made you feel better,” was all she said. </p><p>“Get out of here,” said Gendry, giving her a dark look. She rolled her eyes and dashed out from under the awning of the abandoned market stall. </p><p>“I’m sorry, my Lady” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. She broke down and he pulled her close, gods be damned if she was a lady or not. Someone needed to hold her while she cried. </p><p>“P-please tell her I’m sorry,” Sansa choked out, pulling away. </p><p>“I will,” Gendry responded.  </p><p>“I’m going to go now. I’ll see you next week, maybe,” she said, wiping her eyes and pulling herself together in front of him for the second time that day. </p><p>“Okay. I’ll look out for her,” he said, giving a reassuring nod. This time she couldn’t fake a smile. She just nodded in return and made her way back inside the castle walls. </p><p>-</p><p>It was an illuminating conversation, but it failed to reveal exactly who she was. Tywin was so surprised at the younger person’s comments he almost missed it when the man called her “my Lady.” So his servant was indeed a Lady, not just a highborn woman without a title. </p><p>Fury bubbled inside of him. The whole reason he sent her to the scullery was that he thought she was fucking the iron worker, but that plainly wasn’t the case. She had been lashed for nothing, and still managed to not bring up her suffering to the pair she spoke to. He knew that almost anyone else would’ve pointed to something like a lashing to use as evidence for how bad things truly were, but Meela refused to tell them it had happened. Was it to save face for herself or spare their feelings? He knew it was the second one. </p><p>-</p><p>Tywin had a lot to consider. He was almost positive she was a Stark, from the cryptic conversation they had several days ago. The two Stark daughters were in the capitol, though, which meant she might be a cousin. He was puzzled by those Tully eyes, though. The only way she could be Stark and Tully is if she was a child of Ned and Catelyn Stark, but he was almost sure they only had two girls. It didn’t make sense. And who were the people she talked to outside the castle? It was clear he had been wrong about her sleeping with the iron worker, but what about the young man who said such demeaning things? A sibling, perhaps? He needed more information. </p><p>“My brother is making me wish I’d smothered him in his crib,” he stated while scribbling out a letter. She turned her head at attention and he balled his fist as he watched a loose strand of hair fall into her face. She brushed it back. </p><p>“Family can be challenging, my Lord.” He ignored the twinge that those words sent through him. </p><p>“Do you have siblings?” he began. He saw her body tense and wondered who she thought of. “There’s nothing quite like the anger a sibling can inspire.” It was working. </p><p>“I do, my Lord,” she replied. She was standing by the decanter drying a cup. He wished she would move closer. She offered no more information but continued. “I did not know you had a brother,” she mused. He let out a sigh. </p><p>“A younger one, Kevan.” He pretended to be distracted by his work. </p><p>“Younger siblings present an especially unique challenge, my Lord,” she said, thinking of Arya. He almost smirked to himself. How had he not realized she was educated? The way she spoke was pristine.</p><p>“Oh, yes. And what of your younger siblings?” he asked, feigning casualty. It didn’t quite work; she looked up at him, suspicion in her piercing blue eyes. </p><p>“A younger sister,” she said, already feeling like she had given too much away. </p><p>“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of knowing one,” he responded. </p><p>“Or displeasure.” She said it without thinking, before she could stop herself. He allowed himself a slight smile, and she noticed. “Is family important to you, my Lord?” Once again with these bold questions. He probably would have backhanded another servant for prying so deeply, but not Meela. He wouldn’t have hurt her even when he thought she was lowborn. He wanted to encourage this behavior, hoping that one day she would walk straight into his trap. </p><p>“Yes,” he said, rising from his desk and moving to the window that overlooked the kitchen courtyard. “Family is important to most people from powerful houses. Is family important to you, Meela?” It was enough to spook her, but it could still be written off as a coincidence.</p><p>“Yes, my Lord,” she said, quietly this time. She regretted engaging in this conversation. Tywin, meanwhile, was satisfied.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Luck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sansa runs into an old friend. Or enemy?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! I'm sorry this chapter is so short. I really wanted to get another in before the Big Reveal (which is already written!) <br/>I hope it's not terrible, lol. </p><p>CONTENT WARNING: unwanted kiss/sexual attention</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was no warning. No possible way she could have known who was going to show up for Lord Tywin’s afternoon meeting. Still, she kicked herself for not having gotten out in time. </p><p>“Baelish,” said Tywin, not rising to greet the weasel-like man. Tywin couldn’t stand him. </p><p>Sansa was moving to clear away lunch and set out refreshments when she heard Tywin say his name and stopped cold. Could it really be Petyr Baelish? She swallowed and slowly started moving around again. She passed by mostly unnoticed, even managing to fill his cup with wine without him looking at her. She fumed in the corner as they spoke, listening while someone who pretended to be a friend of her father spoke of Robb’s demise. </p><p>It was one thing to hear Tywin speak constantly of defeating the Young Wolf when others were around. At first, she had tried to listen in for helpful information, but she had been too scared to be present when he talked about Robb after the time he almost accused her of being a Northern spy. </p><p>After that he had done his best to undo that interaction, subtly reassuring her that he wasn’t suspicious of her. He even asked her once what they thought of Robb in the North, and she responded as honestly as she could</p><p>It didn’t bother her as much anymore to hear Tywin speak of defeating her brother, which she knew was a problem. She had to exist in this world, though, and knew that she wouldn’t survive if she spiraled into panic or tears every time she heard Robb’s name. It was a defense mechanism, the way she tuned it out sometimes. Now it was impossible, with a traitor to her family sitting at the table drinking wine like he didn’t have a care in the world. And she had to serve him. </p><p>Her anger bubbled over and she stood trembling by the decanter, listening to this scum of the earth-</p><p>“Meela, Lord Baelish would like some more wine,” he said sharply. Reality came back into focus. His cup was empty but he hadn’t yet turned his head to look at her. She didn’t realize how badly her hands were shaking until she began pouring and wine splashed onto his hand. </p><p>“I’m sorry, my Lord,” she mumbled quietly, trying to turn around to grab a rag before he could see her face.</p><p>“It’s just wine,” he said smoothly, resting his hand on hers and suppressing the look of shock that came when he saw her face. He was about to begin flirting with the quiet young woman when he realized who she was and almost stopped dead. </p><p>Baelish kept his face fairly neutral, but Meela looked as though she was going to stab him. </p><p>“Meela,” Tywin snapped, unhappy that there was something shared between them he couldn’t parse out. “Get out,” he said curtly. </p><p>“Yes, my Lord,” she said in what was clearly a restrained fashion. </p><p>“As you were saying,” Tywin continued. </p><p>Outside of the study, Meela pressed her forehead up against the cool wall and tried to even her breath. No matter what happened after this, it would be at least partly her fault. She hadn’t been unable to control her emotions and signaled to Tywin that this man upset her. Now, even if Baelish didn’t rat her out, Tywin would still be suspicious. She wanted to scream or kick the wall in anger. Instead, she waited for them to finish, wondering if Tywin would emerge from his study knowing her true identity. </p><p>-</p><p>Baelish left shortly after. Meela burned with anger as he touched her arm to pull her aside and whispered a meeting time and place. She could have spat on him. Instead, she returned to the study to clear away his cup and plate of refreshments. </p><p>“Care to explain why you poured wine on my guest?” Tywin asked without ceremony. She stopped and looked at him, dreading this interaction. There was no conceivable way that a lowborn servant would have ever met Petyr Baelish. She did what she could. </p><p>“I saw him earlier today. He touched me inappropriately.” Tywin’s face darkened. </p><p>“How so?” she almost bit her lip. She didn’t want to drag this out any longer than necessary. </p><p>“He grabbed my arm,” she responded, feigning embarrassment. That much was true. </p><p>“And?” Tywin continued, eyebrows raised. </p><p>“And he told me where I could meet him later,” she said with disgust. That line was convincing enough for him to leave her alone for the moment. It only worked because it was true. </p><p>-</p><p>“You’re in a delicate position, Lady Stark,” he said boyishly. Gods, she hated him. </p><p>“How dare you!” she almost roared. “How dare you…” she trailed, unable to think of an appropriate insult. He cut her off. </p><p>“How dare I? You’re even more foolish than you look if you think this was my fault,” he growled. The stairwell they met in was exposed to the elements, and Sansa pulled her shawl tighter around herself, but not only from the chill. </p><p>“You will not speak to me that way. I know exactly what happened and can say confidently that my father would still be alive if you hadn’t betrayed us!” she was yelling now, uncaring if her voice carried. She wished this man was dead. </p><p>“Where’s your sister?” he asked, rudely ignoring her comment. </p><p>“As if I’d tell you.” She clenched her hands together, nails digging into her palms. </p><p>“You’d do well to. I was supposed to inform Tywin Lannister that you and your sister are not, in fact, prisoners of the crown.”</p><p>“What?” she asked, feeling dumbstruck. </p><p>“Cersei Lannister has told the whole world that you and Arya are imprisoned in King’s Landing. I promise that’s the only reason Tywin hasn’t figured you out yet. You’re being obvious enough.” Sansa thought of all she had endured. The touching, beating, lashing. And here was the man who betrayed her father, acting as though she wasn’t trying hard enough. </p><p>“You don’t know what it’s been like,” she said with defeat. She wouldn’t explain all that she’d been through. It would be lost on him. He looked at her with a tenderness that made her insides churn. She knew how he felt about her mother and was keenly aware of how much she resembled her. </p><p>He reached out his hand to swipe away a loose hair and cup her cheek. She tensed under him. </p><p>“Sansa, I need to know. Are you still a virgin?” She instinctively pulled back, her face displaying the horrifying embarrassment she felt. </p><p>“I… Why are you asking me that?” her breath caught in her throat and she put her hand on his to move it away from her face. </p><p>“I can get you out of here, but I would need to ensure your purity. You are quite valuable either way, but I need to know the truth before making arrangements.” She couldn’t hide her disgust. </p><p>“You’re sick,” she croaked. </p><p>“Sansa,” he warned, moving closer. “You have to trust me here. You aren’t safe in this environment.” She scoffed. She knew exactly how unsafe she was. </p><p>“No, I- I can’t. Please just let me think for a moment.” She was no longer yelling. In fact, her voice was barely above a whisper. He stepped back. </p><p>She wouldn’t tell him Arya was here. Not in a million years would she reveal that. But should she use him to escape? Every bone in her body told her no, but a part of her wondered if refusing to bend to Petyr Baelish’s will was part of what got her father killed. He had never hidden his affection for her. When she lived in King’s Landing with her father he had practically courted her, bringing her flowers and taking her on walks through the gardens. Looking back, she was astounded at how this hadn’t bothered her at the time. Since leaving King’s Landing she managed to think very little about her time there. Even picturing the faces of the royal family could send her into a panicked frenzy. It was hard to look at Petyr Baelish. </p><p>He interrupted her thoughts. </p><p>“Do you know who got you out of King’s Landing?” She looked up at him, fearing the answer. “It was me, Sansa. I couldn’t stand thinking about what happened to your father being done to you, or your sister.” He was being tender again. She couldn’t concentrate. “Let me get you out of here, too.” She felt like her chest was constricting. </p><p>“No, I can’t, Petyr. I have to stay here.” She wouldn’t tell him more. He looked disappointed, then angry. </p><p>“I could tell Lord Tywin,” he said, putting his arm on her forearm. She almost winced. He had been doing so well, pretending to care for her. And now came the threats. </p><p>“Please don’t,” she said softly. “What do you want from me?” she asked. </p><p>“I want you to be safe.” It almost sounded gentle, but it all depended on if he got what he wanted.</p><p>“I have plans to get out,” she lied. “And if you kept my secret, I would… I would do anything.” She said the last part making sure her blue eyes pierced as deeply into his as they could. He kissed her. She thought of her mother once more, how horrified she would be that this man, twice her age, was yielding power over her, and she was letting him.</p><p>The longer the kiss went on the dirtier she felt. His hands began roaming, finding a place at the base of her neck and around her waist. It didn’t seem to bother him that she stood still, letting it happen but not kissing back, until he bit down on her lip. </p><p>“Kiss me,” he said, so she did. It was her first kiss. She tried to make it nice, let him do what he wanted, but every few seconds she had the urge to spit him out. Making herself an active participant was far worse than just letting it happen. </p><p>Finally, it was over. He pulled away, his face crimson. </p><p>“Petyr,” she started. “If you keep my secret, you can have me.” She didn’t know exactly what she meant, and neither did he. His shrewd, formulating brain lost to the part of him that saw a young Catelyn Stark standing in front of him. </p><p>“Very well,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again. But if I leave now without telling Tywin who you are, you are forever in my debt. Do you accept?” She nodded, knowing what he meant. It sickened her. He walked down the staircase like nothing ever happened. She leaned out of the hole in the wall and threw up.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Lure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sansa and Tywin grow ever closer.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey folks! Welcome back. I'd like to give a little disclaimer at the beginning of this chapter - Sansa is at Harrenhal. As the story has established, she's a beautiful young woman in a dark place. While she's there, as we've seen, some pretty shitty things are going to happen to her. I just wanted to give you all a heads up that this fic is hurt/comfort oriented but it takes a minute to get to the comfort part. I hope you all enjoy, as per usual, and I am thrilled to hear your feedback. </p><p>Another note: I need to apologize for writing Arya as so mean, but that is explained in the future. The goal is not for you to hate her, but I've done a bad job so far by just showing her as a villain. That will sort itself out though. </p><p>And finally, thank you for bearing with me. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, and if something seems weird or not what you expected I promise it's because I've never posted fanfic of any kind before and am trying to make it palatable while keeping my original idea. </p><p>Okay last one, I promise - y'all really aren't ready for what's about to go down, specifically at the end of the chapter. Enjoy! :-)</p><p>CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains a scene of attempted sexual assault.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tywin didn’t know what to think about Meela and Petyr Baelish. She had come in the day after he left looking particularly sullen, which was unusual for her. Even in a place such as this, she maintained a soft aura, not too positive but not emitting gloom either. It comforted him.</p><p>“Are you quite alright?” he asked several days later. She still hadn’t perked back up. She was staring at the floor in front of her and didn’t seem to hear him.</p><p>“Meela!” she jerked her head up and he felt a pang of guilt upon seeing the fear in her eyes. He softened his face.</p><p>“I asked if you were alright.” She knew it was strange and improper to have a relationship like this; a master asking after the emotional wellbeing of his servant.</p><p>“Oh, I apologize, my Lord.” She cast her eyes downward. “I’ve been distracted.” Tywin motioned for her to come closer. She placed her hands on the back of the chair next to his and he marveled at their precision, even for how worn they’d become. Every touch was intentional. He couldn’t think about how that statement would apply to the way her hands would touch a man’s body. Not when she was so close to him. Not when he could simply reach out and take her.</p><p>“What has distracted you? I’m used to excellent service, but you haven’t even asked if I’d like wine or tea.” She smiled ever so slightly.</p><p>“You wanted wine today,” she said. She wasn’t trying to be coy, sweetness just radiated off of her. He looked at her as if to remind her that he asked a question and the smile faded.</p><p>“It isn’t safe for me here,” she said. He listened carefully for what was unsaid.</p><p>“Did Petyr Baelish touch you?” He hadn’t thought to be concerned about that. Surely Meela would’ve known to avoid the little snake. Still, the thought made his fists clench. She noticed.</p><p>This game was even trickier than the one she’d been playing. She wanted to see Lord Tywin Lannister rip Petyr Baelish to shreds. She wanted to tell the truth about the degrading way he spoke to her and how he’d stolen her first kiss from her. For some reason she knew that Tywin would murder him at the next opportunity for that. She liked the feeling that knowledge gave her.</p><p>“Not… not like that. He just made it clear that he was interested.” Bile rose in her throat at the thought. She was partially telling the truth. Her best conversations with Tywin were a result of her lying as little as possible. What could it hurt, anyway? It would be to her benefit if Tywin beheaded Petyr Baelish the next time he set foot near her or him.</p><p>Tywin rose from his chair, surprising her. She remained where she stood and allowed him to hover over her without backing away.</p><p>“Where did he touch you?” Knowing the anger in his voice wasn’t directed at her didn’t make it better. The simmering rage still terrified her into telling the truth. She brought her hands up to her lips instinctively, not realizing what she’d given away. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He hadn’t raped her. Tywin was still unsure of Meela’s virginity; just because she and the iron worker weren’t fucking didn’t mean she hadn’t been attacked at some point. It was difficult to ignore the hot fury the thought sent through his veins. He wouldn’t embarrass her like that by asking and scare her off. Not yet, at least.</p><p>“I’ve spoken before about how I feel about men touching my property. That sentiment extends to Petyr Baelish. If he returns and lays a hand on you again, I’ll have it removed.” He looked down at her just in time to see her sneak a glance up at him. They held one another with their eyes for a moment before he walked around her toward the opposite end of the table where a plate of grapes lay waiting. She moved back to her station, still processing. He knew it was coming and hid his reaction. She gave him a curtsey, and once more said “Thank you, my Lord.”</p><p>-</p><p>Tywin wanted another opportunity to follow her but knew that dismissing her for a large meeting twice in a week might arouse suspicion. Instead he told her in late afternoon the following day that he had a headache and would be staying in his chambers for the rest of the day. He greatly enjoyed the look of worry that creased her brows.</p><p>He was correct in hoping that this was enough time for her to venture outside to see her strange companions. He waited several minutes before leaving his chamber to follow her, annoyed that he was having to sneak around like some common criminal. It wouldn’t do for one of his aids to tip her off, though, and he wanted to know exactly what was said. Word for word.</p><p>-</p><p>“Going somewhere?” said a gruff voice. In the dimly lit passage that led out of the castle, a dark shape moved in front of Sansa. She took an involuntary step back, only to bump into another form. She whirled around to see a large man in Lannister red.</p><p>“I… I’m going to find food,” she sputtered. Not this. Not just days after Petyr Baelish had accosted her in the stairwell. She wasn’t able to meet Tywin’s eyes as easily now that she had given herself up. Of course she hadn’t lost her purity, but she was ashamed of following Baelish’s instructions when he told her to kiss him back. She could hear the man behind her take a step toward her. She was trapped, but she wasn’t following orders this time. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. “Let me go,” she tried to demand. It sounded weak.</p><p>“How did such a pretty thing like you end up in Harrenhal?” the one behind her crooned. She turned to face him and this time saw his armor as well. Two Lannister guards.</p><p>“I… I’m Lord Tywin’s cupbearer.” It was the first time she had to use this information to protect herself.</p><p>“That’s not what I heard. I was there when you were lashed at the scullery. Didn’t seem to me like Lord Lannister particularly cared what happened to you.”</p><p>She didn’t know what to say. Fear crawled its way out of her throat in a scream as the one of the men lunged at her. She fought, clawing at their faces and arms while they struggled to pin her to the ground. They hadn’t gotten a good grip on her mouth yet and she screamed for help before one of the hands clamped shut over her lips, muting her cries. She thrashed and kicked, but soon found herself with one of the men sitting on top of her while the other held her arms pinned above her head. She almost passed out from how fast she was breathing before she remembered the bite healing on her hand. Thank the Seven for Arya. She opened her mouth and felt flesh against her teeth. She bit down with impossible strength and felt blood spray as the guard screamed in agony.</p><p>“You will regret that,” was the last thing she heard before he grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head on the stone over and over and over again. She didn’t hear anything else.</p><p>-</p><p>Tywin stood by the exit of the passage that led outside. Where was she? It shouldn’t have taken her that long to walk through it. Pulling his hood further up over his head in case he ran into her, he walked through the passage back toward the castle. He heard her scream.</p><p>He moved quickly, not thinking about what she would do if she saw him appear in the passageway and realized he was following her.</p><p>It didn’t matter. By the time he got to the scene she was unconscious. One of the guards was fumbling with his breeches, struggling because of a wound on his hand. The other was preparing by stroking himself.</p><p>Tywin didn’t feel anything as he tossed off his cloak, removed his dagger from his belt, and slit the throat of the man on top of Meela. He didn’t feel anything as the second man begged for mercy and he especially didn’t feel anything when he plunged the dagger into the side of that man’s skull. He was completely calm as he kneeled beside Meela and saw blood trickling out of an open wound from where her head had been dashed against the stone floor.</p><p>He didn’t feel anything because he had become something else. The rage that he should have felt instead manifested inside him and turned him into a killer. A lion.</p><p>He was vaguely worried about the fact that he had just murdered two of his guards, but he mainly considered Meela’s health. She was breathing, to his relief. He had started to pick Meela up, still finding time to marvel at the smooth paleness of her skin, when he realized he needed to go straight back to his study. He didn't need accusations of killing his own men on his plate.</p><p>So he did. He looked back once more to get another glimpse of Meela's expressionless face. It wasn't peaceful, but it wasn't marred by anxiety as usual. She wasn’t dead, but dead to the world, and he took a moment to look at her soft features. She was beautiful. He turned and left. When he arrived back at his study, he asked his aid to go find Meela. She was supposed to be serving him.</p><p>-</p><p>Meela had been found and taken back to the maid’s quarters to rest. As far as he knew, she hadn’t woken up yet. Tywin was out of sorts the rest of the day and into the next. He was distracted, the image of her blood dripping onto the ground seared into his head. The vulgarity of how close his own two guards had come to raping her. He had heard her scream, too, it replayed in his head. He decided he needed to see her to set his mind at ease. He tried not to think too hard about how extreme his attachment had become.</p><p>“My cupbearer, why has she not returned to work?” he asked a young woman outside of the maid’s quarters.</p><p>“Apologies, Lord Lannister. She still hasn’t woken up.” The alarm Tywin felt did not make it to his face. He put on a look of boredom.</p><p>“Very well, send someone else,” he said shortly.</p><p>-</p><p>“Have my cupbearer moved to my chambers,” he told a male servant. Usually quite stoic, the man looked at him in shock, no doubt horrified that Tywin seemed to be preying on this girl while she was unconscious. A voice in his head reminded him that that was exactly what he was doing, just not in the way the servant thought. It wasn’t strange for a Lord to have one of his servants brought to his chamber. These things were common.</p><p>He hated knowing it was more to keep her safe than anything else. Clearly she was in danger when free to move about on her own. Being accosted by Baelish and now this. He hoped to remedy that by brazenly having her brought to him. An event like this was less likely to repeat itself when the staff and guards thought she was his whore.</p><p>Tywin grimaced at that. Despite everything, he had too much respect for her to think of her in those terms. And he wouldn’t actually be fucking her, he reminded himself. Gods, this was exhausting. If she didn’t confess in the next few days, he would have to resort to unpleasant measures. He’d never hurt her, not in the way she was hurt at the post, by Baelish, or by the guards. He did not feel the same way towards her companions, though.</p><p>-</p><p>Tywin hoped that Meela wouldn't be awake. He had been busy strategizing over the war with Robb Stark all day and wanted to bash his own head against the ground. The Young Wolf was proving himself an adequate match to the Old Lion.</p><p>Thankfully for Tywin, he found Meela resting in his bed, but quickly grew concerned when he moved closer. She was shimmering, quite beautifully, in sweat. Her usually pale skin bloomed in red from her forehead to her neck down to her thin ankles. She trembled slightly in her sleep. Tywin noticed a smell emanating from her. He knelt close to her head and found that the wound she received the day before was festering. He took a step back, unable to look at it much longer. He had seen and felt far worse, but to think of something like this on Meela made him ill.</p><p>He fetched a maester, one of the only ones on the grounds. Care of the injured was not a priority for the Lannister army. You either fought or you couldn’t. The maester doctored her head and assessed that a few of her ribs were bruised, if not broken. He looked worryingly at Tywin.</p><p>“I’m not going to fuck her tonight,” he replied dryly.</p><p>“Of course not, my Lord,” he sniveled. “It’s just that she needs rest and you wouldn’t want to do any more damage-”</p><p>“Out. Now,” he snarled. He had made himself clear the first time and didn’t care to repeat the words.</p><p>She was slightly more at ease now, but the fever still held her tightly. He sat down next to her on the bed and pressed a damp rag to her forehead. He felt foolish. Intimate gestures like these were from a different lifetime. This was childish. He got up to move, knowing that it was best to sleep in the armchair lest she wake up next to him in the night, terrified. Before he could, though, she made a noise.</p><p>“Father,” she cried softly. He watched her breathing grow heavy, her skin shivering despite the warmth of the room.</p><p>He had a particularly sadistic idea. Those had always carried him far in life, so he went through with it.</p><p>Before he could change his mind, he picked up her shaking form and set her on his lap. Her skin burned his, not just from the heat but from desire. He had to keep himself under control.</p><p>“It’s me,” he grumbled back to her. Her hands, balled into fists, began to uncurl and search for warmth on his chest. She didn’t open her eyes, but tears came anyway.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she choked out, shaking with sobs. Her broken ribs couldn’t have helped. He sighed.</p><p>“Your sister,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice ambiguous. Her eyes opened at that, sending more tears cascading down her cheeks. He looked away, but wasn’t worried. Her fever was high, he could feel it radiating off of her. The next time she woke up she would convince herself this had been a dream.</p><p>“Arya,” she moaned, her voice heavy with emotion. The name shocked him to his core. This was Arya Stark’s older sister. This was Sansa Stark. His own heart beat faster and he shushed the thoughts spilling out of his brain. He had to be sure.</p><p>“And your brothers,” he continued. She looked up at him but it was obvious that she was not seeing Tywin Lannister. She was hallucinating being held by her father. This felt like a new low, even for Tywin.</p><p>“Robb couldn’t protect us,” she whispered. He could hear the guilt in her voice.</p><p>“No,” he replied. He wondered if there was anything he could say to make it hurt less. Her blue eyes looked up at him, swimming in tears with sweat dripping down her forehead. “Winter is coming, Sansa” was the only thing he could think of to say.</p><p>“Yes,” she replied shakily, closing her eyes.</p><p>Her quiet voice unsettled him. She was right, whether she knew it or not. His suspicions finally having been confirmed, he started to set her back down, but her weak grip on his doublet and weak cry of protest made him stop. This would likely be the last time he ever touched her, he reasoned with himself. He could hold her a little while longer.</p><p>Tywin woke up an hour later, Sansa not having let go or loosened her grip at all. It was time for him to go back to work, though. Knowing her real identity was going to set major plans in motion. Her hands fell away as he laid her back down, and reluctantly covered her up with the blankets to keep her from getting too cold. He started out of the room when he heard her voice behind him.</p><p>“Please don’t leave me again,” she said thickly. She was still asleep.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Lean</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tywin confronts Sansa.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again! Thanks again for reading up to this point. I do need to mention that I am officially out of content that I wrote ahead of time. I will absolutely keep updating, but it will probably be Friday before I do. Also, apologies that this is such a short chapter, but it's certainly eventful. I hope everyone keeps enjoying the story, and thank you again for your feedback!</p><p>CONTENT WARNING: mentions of sexual assault, uncomfortable sexual situation</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sansa awoke the next morning to a throbbing in her head that caused stars to spin in front of her vision. She was laying on her pallet in the maid’s quarters, aware that she had lost time but had no way of knowing how much. She tried sitting up only to find that the pain seared too deeply for her to move. She reached up and felt her head, wondering when it was bandaged and why. Suddenly images of Lanister red cloaks, ugly faces, and blood dripping from the man’s hand onto her face filled her vision. She shut her eyes to usher these scenes away when a picture of her father filled her head. He was holding her, comforting her, telling her that winter was coming. </p><p>Her fever wasn’t entirely gone, and she wasn’t lucid enough to force herself off of her pallet. No one came to yell at her, though, so she slept through the rest of the day. The next morning she made her way to Tywin’s study, unsure of what waited for her there. Did he know she was attacked? She knew that someone saved her; the men were brutally killed. </p><p>-</p><p>“My Lord, I’m sorry-” he cut her off with a wave of his hand. </p><p>“No need. Fetch me some water, and drink some yourself. You look dehydrated.” She nodded, following his command. He would let her reacclimate to this environment; become comfortable again. And then he would strike. </p><p>He knew who she was - Sansa Stark. His rage had mostly quieted. At first he wanted to beat her to a bloody pulp for fooling him. Yank that gorgeous red hair out of her head and make her pay for lying to him. He was satisfied now, though, to make her talk. There was no real reason other than to humiliate her. A portion of him didn’t want to do it; not to his Meela. But she wasn’t Meela. She needed to be taught a lesson for lying to him. He was going to make sure she never lied again, even if that meant making her squirm. </p><p>-</p><p>“You know of the ice king, what about the Targaryen women and their dragons?” Tywin mused as Sansa poured him a glass that evening. Sansa knew that Tywin could see the recognition she failed to hide and answered truthfully.<br/>
“Yes, my Lord.” She finished pouring and began tidying up. She had the sudden urge to bolt from the room but quelled her fears, telling herself it was paranoia. </p><p>“And their names?” he asked, standing. This surprised her. She turned towards him slowly, setting down the cup she had been drying. </p><p>“I do not know, my Lord,” she lied. The atmosphere and a slight difference in his posture told her something was wrong. And he was smart enough to know that alarm bells were going off in her head. Attempting to strategize on the spot, she started formulating a story in her head to defend why she knew their names.<br/>
“Visenya and Rhaenys were sisters.” She was completely still, staring at him and doing a decent job at hiding her growing panic. Tywin took two steps closer to her and was impressed when she didn’t shrink back. She didn’t know what was coming, though. </p><p>“It wouldn’t be improper for me to fuck you, you know,” he said slowly. His eyes trailed from her breasts to the hair resting on her forehead. She took in a small breath, unable to hide her surprise. In the two months she had served Tywin Lannister, she had not known him to be a crude man. For once, her terribly smart brain could not come up with a reply. He took another step forward, and this time she moved back. Good. She knew he was serious. “There’s nothing stopping me. It’s quite common, actually. Cupbearers being used for more than one kind of service. Unless…” he trailed, moving ever closer. The comment made her ill. To think about someone whose presence she found comfort in hurting her like that was devastating. Her cheeks burned at the image his words conjured in her head. She hated knowing that image existed in his mind as well. She hadn’t been looking at him, but now her eyes were so downcast that it looked like they were closed. </p><p>She jumped a little as she felt his hand caress her cheek. He still wanted to touch her gently, even knowing she had lied to him. She knew that he wanted her to look at him; his hand cupped her cheek and nudged it upward. Her eyes were closed, though. </p><p>Sansa, although she had been living in constant violence and uncertainty  since her escape from King’s Landing, was still unable to foresee the brutality inflicted upon lowborn people. Even after the near-constant physical abuse she experienced at Harrenhal, her mind wouldn’t jump to the immediate conclusion that she was in danger of being hurt. In this situation, she knew Tywin was a physical threat to her, but she was not raised to expect to be treated roughly, and Tywin took advantage of it. </p><p>The shock of the situation had not fully registered when Sansa was no longer standing by the drink stand. Instead, she had been shoved against the wall, tightly pressed in between the cool stone and Tywin Lannister’s body. One of his hands pinned her wrists to the wall above her head, the other wrapped around her throat. Taking it all in, Sansa was surprised to feel relatively unhurt. This was certainly an uncomfortable position, and Tywin Lannister was likely about to rape her, but his hands were not so tight that she couldn’t breathe. They were sending a message saying “this is to restrain you, not to injure you.” Regardless, finding herself in this position, Sansa saw no other choice. </p><p>“Please don’t!” she begged. His hand tightened around her neck, finally gripping her tight enough to cut off her flow of oxygen. She tried to gasp, unsuccessfully, and he watched her beautiful face turn red and then slightly purple. </p><p>“Why not?” he asked, almost casually. They both knew the answer.  He loosened his grip and oxygen flooded back into her brain. She had trouble catching her breath. </p><p>“I’m… I’m not Meela,” she shuttered out. She wasn’t exactly crying, but tears were welling in the corners of her eyes. In a way, Tywin was grateful to see her break down. He didn’t want to go much further than this. He had remarkable self-control, but there was no point in taking chances. He just needed her to feel humiliated by letting that facade crack. He couldn’t turn back yet, though. </p><p>“Who are you?” he said through his teeth, leaning in close over her face. It scrunched up in fear and discomfort, and he automatically felt his grip on her wrists and throat tighten even more. Sansa, although crying now, was not quite ready to give herself away. Tywin let go of her and backed away, rubbing his hands over his eyes in frustration. “I know you are not who you say you are. But you have to tell me who, or I will torture it out of you. We’re at Harrenhal, you know it gets so much worse than the post. If you didn’t enjoy the lashing, you really wouldn’t care for the whip. There’s a spiked one, you know,” he jeered. Terror grew on her face not only listening to his words but seeing how much he was enjoying this. He grew stronger from her fear. </p><p>“Or,” Tywin continued, “I could continue to threaten you with what you fear most. I would not rape a highborn lady, but I have men in my employ who would be happy to. Should I call for them? How many do you think? Six or seven?” He was less fond of threatening to violate her but was willing to do whatever it took to get her identity out in the open without him having to reveal that he knew it already. He also knew she would break long before he could drag her out to be whipped or invite soldiers in to ruin her. She wasn’t in any real danger, but she didn’t necessarily know that. </p><p>Sansa took in a shuddering breath, trying to get herself under control. She had been brave for so long, but she trembled violently now. Her eyes were clamped shut and he watched with satisfaction as a tear rolled down her cheek. He let go of her neck to brush it away with his thumb. She tried to turn her head away but he grabbed her chin and forced it in his direction. </p><p>“What will it be?” he said with quiet anger. “A beating, or a bedding? I’ll let you choose.” She still refused to open her eyes, knowing how close he was to her face from how well she could smell his body and hear the near purr in his voice. She wished she could ask her mother what to do. She wished Arya was far away from here so she could confess and deal with the consequences. </p><p>“Open your eyes,” he growled, one hand still on her chin. Out of nowhere, the she-wolf reared its head. Blue eyes flashed open and her face hardened in anger. </p><p>“You will regret touching me like that,” she spat. “Remove your hands from me immediately.” To her surprise, he did. The game was over, she was going to tell him what he needed to know. She thought his hand lingered on her chin for slightly longer than the other grip he had on her. He finally took a step back, allowing her to breathe for a moment. He was impressed and slightly turned on by the glare she gave him when she was ready to talk. </p><p>“I am Sansa Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, sister of Rob Stark, King in the North, and a member of an 8,000-year-old house.” Her voice was thick but controlled. “Traitors to the crown or not, the Starks will always hold power in the North. I carry some of that power. You will not threaten me anymore. I am your most coveted prisoner. I know my place, but I know my worth.”<br/>
Godsdamned, Tywin thought to himself. His face revealed no shock, only passive interest. After her small speech, Sansa was more uneasy. She began questioning the wisdom of what she had done. Tywin watched her fight a cloud that threatened to take over her face. She was strong, Sansa Stark. Tywin bowed. </p><p>“Lady Sansa,” he said, extending his hand. Reluctantly, she kissed it. </p><p>-</p><p>Sitting in a dark cell in the bowels of Harrenhal, Sansa went over her situation in her mind. She had been imprisoned for two days. She was to depart for King’s Landing the following morning, accompanied by two Lannister men. Lord Tywin did not discuss the specifics of her position. She knew that her engagement to Joffrey was over. They wouldn’t let a traitor’s daughter go near him, lest she tarnish the family name. As if he wasn’t doing a good enough job of that himself. </p><p>She thought of her father, at that. She wanted to believe that he wouldn’t be disappointed in her for exposing her identity to Tywin Lannister, but doubt crept in anyway. It didn’t matter how he knew, it was still her fault. What was she supposed to have done when he chose her for his employ? Say no? Sansa cut off that line of thinking, it was useless anyway. </p><p>She sat awake all night in her cell, chewing on her lip, desperately trying to think of how she might warn Arya. Tywin obviously didn’t know that Arya was there, and Sansa had to keep it that way. Thinking about their last interaction made her take in a harsh breath and begin crying. Of course it had been hostile. That was probably the last time she would ever see her sister and she had grabbed her arm out of anger. It didn’t make her weep so bitterly when thinking about her father. He loved her and she loved him, and even though his death was horrific there was nothing she could have done. Arya was still alive, though, and to think that she might’ve spent her last moments with her angry was unbearable. </p><p>“Why do you cry?” asked a voice in the darkness. It scared Sansa and she screamed, but there were no guards around to hear. She wiped her face. She wouldn’t have cried so openly if she’d known there was someone else down here. She took a moment to even her breath. </p><p>“I… I miss my sister,” she sniffled out, seeing no reason to lie. In the darkness she could make out a shape in the cell next to hers, moving. There was no light, but her eyes were adjusting. </p><p>“Why have they imprisoned a beautiful young woman?” he asked in a strange accent. This took her aback. </p><p>“How can you see me?” she asked. </p><p>“I cannot. But I know the sound of a beautiful girl crying.” Her cheeks flushed crimson.</p><p>“Oh,” she said. She moved to sit up, having been laying on the cold ground. </p><p>“You did not answer my question,” the voice reminded her gently. </p><p>“I lied to Lord Lannister,” she said, swallowing back more tears. How foolish she’d been. </p><p>“Everyone lies from time to time,” he said reassuringly. </p><p>“I suppose,” she replied. Her eyes were growing heavy somehow. </p><p>“You will sleep now,” he commanded. </p><p>“Mmmhmm,” she intoned, sleeping like a rock before the noise had finished echoing off of the damp cell walls.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sansa does what she has to in order to save her sister.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys! I want to start off by saying thank you again for all the comments and reviews! Y'all have some great ideas. This is the direction I always saw this going in my head so I stuck with it, I hope no one is too disappointed by the events in this chapter.</p><p>I have a big part of my thesis due (I'm an undergrad history student) next week and will be working on that all week. Realistically, it'll be next Friday before I update again. I'm sorry I got into the habit of posting once a day and now I'm changing it. Truthfully I have been using this as an excuse to not work on my thesis but I can't do that anymore. Wish me luck :/</p><p>MAJOR CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains a graphic depiction of a suicide attempt. It includes descriptions of self-injury. Please please be safe and comment if you'd like a summary instead of reading the chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sansa woke suddenly the next morning to sunlight streaming into her eyes from a grate near the top of her cell. She thought it was strange how soundly she slept after the anxiety of the day before. She sat up and stretched and noticed the man in the other cell staring at her, causing her to jump. </p><p>“Wait,” Sana said groggily, not having spoken yet. “I know you,” she said quickly, placing the strange man. “My sis-” she cut herself off. “Arry was talking to you.” He nodded. </p><p>“Yes, I owe Arry a great debt,” he replied solemnly. If he knew she had slipped up and almost called “Arry” her sister, he didn’t let it show. Sansa’s heartbeat quickened. This man could help her. </p><p>“What’s your name?” she asked, never failing to be polite before asking a favor.</p><p>“Jaqen. Do you need something?” he asked calmly. It unnerved her. </p><p>“I… yes. Please, if you can, warn Arry. Tell him that his sister was caught and is being taken to King’s Landing. Can you do that? You were outside when I saw you.” She hated how desperate she sounded. </p><p>“I suppose I can do that,” he said evenly. “We will need to discuss the specifics of what I owe Arry, though. If he needs to escape, I can make that happen.” Sansa gasped. </p><p>“H-he does. He and Gendry, the iron worker. If you could get them out of Harrenhal…” she trailed. She had nothing to offer him. </p><p>“I owe Arry two lives. I will consider it even when I get Arry and Gendry outside the walls. Do you think Arry will accept the terms of this arrangement?” Sansa balked. Why wouldn’t she?</p><p>“I would be forever-” she was cut off, the door to the cells opening and Lannister guards entering the dim, cramped space. </p><p>“Lady Sansa,” said Jaqen as they let him out of his cell. Sansa followed him with her eyes, her bravest face faltering. “I will keep her safe,” he said simply. She didn’t have time to respond before he was taken out of the dungeon and she found herself alone with her thoughts once more. </p><p>-</p><p>Sansa was surprised at her treatment as a prisoner of the crown. Her cell was pitch black at night, but mostly dry. She received more meals than she had as a servant and even a fresh change of clothes. She supposed she was being fattened up before the slaughter. Lord Tywin let her sit and think for a full day before finally, at sunset, guards came for her. She hadn’t seen Jaqen again and prayed he got Arya and Gendry out safely. She didn’t want to think about why he owed Arya something. Best not to dwell. </p><p>Instead of marching her out of the castle, like she assumed, the guards took her up the familiar route of low-lit hallways to Tywin’s study. Her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn’t seen him and didn’t want to. It made her sick to think she had begun to trust him before he laid his hands on her like everyone else. Her hands traced the bruises on her neck that his thumbprints left behind. This was the real Tywin Lannister. </p><p>The door opened and it took Sansa a moment to register the scene in front of her. It wasn’t what she expected. </p><p>Tywin sat at the table, papers strewn about as usual. Seated at the table, bound tightly in shackles, were Arya and Gendry. Tywin looked up to watch the expression on her face. It didn’t satisfy him as he expected it would. Sansa’s eyes grew wide with horror before her brow crumpled. </p><p>“No,” she cried softly. Tywin wasn’t enjoying this. In fact, he was beginning to regret it. She hung her head and he watched a perfect tear fall to the floor. He cleared his throat and stood. </p><p>“Lady Sansa, as you can see, I am aware that you did not escaped alone. Your sister, Lady Arya, and…” </p><p>“Gendry Waters,” the young man practically growled. </p><p>“Yes, Gendry Waters, accompanied you. The three of you face grave consequences.” Sansa couldn’t meet his eyes, though he was standing close to her. Her chest tightened at the word “consequences.” She cared little about what happened to her now. It couldn’t be that much worse than what she’d already endured. Thinking about Arya and Gendry suffering because of her, though… that was unbearable. </p><p>“I am going to make your death slow and painful,” spat Arya. She hated seeing her older sister look so broken. Tywin chuckled slightly.</p><p>“Lord Lannister,” Sansa interrupted before he could respond. He wasn’t expecting her to speak yet, but he let her continue without reprimand. She sank to her knees. Both Tywin and Sansa didn’t know if it was out of despair or an attempt to appeal to his station. It didn’t matter. Either way, her sad, determined blue eyes looked at him with a fierceness he had only seen once before, the first time the she-wolf reared her head. </p><p>“You don’t need them, you need me. Let me speak.” He nodded down at her, curious. </p><p>“Gendry has no part in this. He doesn’t understand the politics of helping us, he’s just a brave friend. I know why you think you need Arya, but I will suffice just as well. You can trade me for Jaime.” His eyes flashed for a moment. She said Jaime’s name on purpose. </p><p>“Arya’s a child. There’s no reason to drag her into this game, not as the fourth and last child in line for control of the North.” She wasn’t entirely sure about their lineage; they’d never discussed it with their mother and father. But if Bran and Rickon were head of she and Arya because they were male, she decided it would only help her argument to portray Arya as valueless. </p><p>Tywin considered this. He had no plans to release Arya Stark, but it was an interesting argument, at least. </p><p>“Please,” she finished, desperately trying to keep her voice from breaking. He looked down at her, eyes narrowed, expression unmoving. </p><p>“No,” he responded cruelly. He began to move towards the door, but Sansa quickly stood up and blocked his path. For once, the anger was visible on his face. </p><p>Arya couldn’t keep quiet any longer. </p><p>“Don’t touch her!” she shrieked at the same time Sansa continued pleading.</p><p>“Please, wait,” Sansa begged. He moved towards her and she grabbed his doublet with surprising strength. She pushed back at him, keeping him from reaching the door. She had one last card to play. She knew where he kept his knife. She had seen it flash before while he moved, tucked into the belt on his trousers. She lifted his shirt and grabbed it and ran to the corner of the room, moving too quickly for him to grab a hold of her hair, but he tried. Arya was still screeching murder threats in the background. Sansa took both hands and angled the tip of the blade against her breastbone, above her heart.</p><p>“Lady Sansa,” Tywin said quietly, taking a step towards her.</p><p>“Don’t!” she screamed, pushing the blade in far enough to break the skin. He watched a few drops of blood drip down her chest and took a step back. Tywin was quick to think under pressure and only felt his heart rate elevate slightly. She wouldn’t do it. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Arya cried, trying to wriggle out of her shackles. </p><p>“Stop!” cried Gendry.</p><p>“Put that down,” Tywin hummed. Sansa heard his voice louder than anyone else’s. A new tone entered his voice, one she hadn’t heard before. It was gentle, and it almost worked. </p><p>“You think I won’t,” she said breathily. She felt like she was going to pass out. She quickly moved one of her arms in front of her chest and slashed her wrist. She positioned the knife against her chest once more, ready to pierce her heart. “There,” she said quickly. “Now we’re on a time limit. Release them.” Still confident he would not be releasing Arya or Gendry, Tywin called for his guards. There was no response outside. </p><p>“They must be off having their way with some maiden,” Sansa said lightly. “Let them go now or I’ll do the other wrist. Each drop of blood of mine that spills is a greater chance that you will never see your son again.” He wondered where this version of Sansa Stark had been hidden all along. He stared for a moment longer and let her see the concern on his face before moving to unshackle Gendry and Arya.</p><p>“Arya,” Sansa began, knowing her sister. “Do not attack him.” </p><p>“Why not?” she was practically foaming at the mouth. </p><p>“Because you and Gendry are going to leave and I am staying here. If you kill Lord Lannister, I will never make it out of here alive." </p><p>Tywin stood still behind Gendry and Arya, holding the key to their shackles. </p><p>“Unlock him. Gendry, don’t let Arya hurt Lord Lannister. You know I can’t go with you.” Gendry did know that. Sansa barely survived the first trek through the wilderness. She couldn’t disguise herself and after being sick it was even less likely she’d make it to civilization. It would be a miracle if Arya and Gendry did. </p><p>She put her unhurt arm out in front of her and slashed vertically on that wrist as well. “We don’t have much time if you don’t want me to bleed out. Now release them.”</p><p>Tywin unchained them, not breaking eye contact with Sansa. Gendry kept his rage at the man under control and took the key from him. Tywin stepped back, noting that he would’ve been amused at this attempted escape plan if Sansa wasn’t at risk of dying right in front of him. They wouldn’t make it out of the castle. Not alive, at least. </p><p>Gendry unchained Arya and was prepared when she tried to leap at Twyin. He restrained her, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. She was howling, like a wolf. </p><p>“Leave,” Sansa said softly. “Get out of here, now.” Gendry’s face was pained and pale, but he knew that all three of them wouldn’t be leaving the castle together. Arya and Gendry might make it on their own, though. Tywin stood watching, unarmed and unphased. He would let them leave the room so Sansa didn’t have to watch her sister be killed in front of her.</p><p>When Arya realized that she and Gendry were actually going to leave Sansa, she switched her focus from murdering Tywin to begging for her sister to come with them. </p><p>“Sansa, I’m sorry!” Arya cried, thrashing in Gendry’s arms and digging her nails into his skin. </p><p>“Now, Gendry,” Sansa replied. Arya screamed and wailed, uncaring if she alerted the entire castle to their escape.</p><p>“Sansa, I didn’t mean what I said, the guards-” she blabbered as Gendry moved toward the door. He didn’t think they were going to get out alive, but he would follow Lady Sansa’s orders. </p><p>“I know,” said Sansa, tears welling in her eyes but not spilling over. </p><p>“Please, come with us Sansa! Please!” she screamed. Sansa remained statuesque, though swaying slightly from the blood loss. </p><p>“I love you, Arya,” she whispered. </p><p>Gendry flung the door open to find Jaqen standing where two guards should have been. Sansa thanked the Old gods and the New that he kept his promise. He would get them out. </p><p>“Thank you,” she said. Jaqen looked at her and nodded then helped Gendry with Arya, who was still fighting and begging Sansa to come with them. She wasn’t going to, though. Gendry and Arya stood a chance without her. Another tear slipped down her cheek. </p><p>Arya’s screams faded and Sansa still remained motionless, ready to plunge the knife into her heart. Tywin still watched. He wasn’t concerned about the other Stark girl. The trio of escapees would be caught, if not before they left the gates, then hunted down after. </p><p>“Lady Sansa,” he said after a moment. She opened her eyes and looked back at him. “We’ll need to dress those wounds.” There was no pretext anymore; no plotting. </p><p>“I’m never going to see my family again,” she said shakily. The blood gushed out faster the tighter she gripped the knife. Her arms were growing weak. </p><p>“You will,” he lied. For once in his miserable life, he wasn’t wishing death upon someone. The look in the she-wolf’s eyes told him that she only needed a nudge in either direction, and he hoped to veer her back towards living. This Stark did matter. She was right about needing her if he wanted to see Jaime alive again.</p><p>“I could be with my father,” she mused, thinking about him holding her and telling her he was proud. </p><p>Tywin didn’t move forward, yet. </p><p>“Or you could live, and make him proud,” he replied. She wondered if he was reading her mind. The moment her eyelids began to flutter, Tywin dashed over. He didn’t have to worry about the knife. It was falling out of her limp hand and her body was on its way to the ground. He reached her before the fall could hurt her and wound up cradling her in his arms. He tore a piece off of his shirt and pressed it tightly around the open wound on her wrist. He knew calling for guards would be useless. Whoever that man was - Jaqen - had clearly dispatched all of the ones nearby. Cursing both Sansa and himself, he stood to carry her to his chambers once more. </p><p>-</p><p>Jaqen kept his promise. He took more than two lives to get Arya and Gendry out of Harrenhal, but they were even now. Valar morghulis. </p><p>Arya wept in Gendry’s arms while she thought about having left her sister in the lion’s den. She suddenly understood why Sansa had followed her into Harrenhal. Grief and regret overcame her as she thought about how she’d pushed Sansa away out of anger. Now Sansa was gone, probably forever.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Lust (REVISED)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tywin and Sansa share one last moment before he tears them apart.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! If you're still here and interested in this fic after my two month hiatus, welcome back! Now that school has calmed down I'd like to start posting weekly again. </p><p>IMPORTANT STORY UPDATE:<br/>I was really unhappy with the last chapter I posted, so I deleted it and am reposting it with some edits. It was a rush job and there were too many plot holes to fix. Here is the revised version. </p><p>As always, I hope you enjoy and look forward to reading your comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sansa didn’t remember being in Tywin’s chambers. She remembered falling, him holding her, and then nothing until she awoke in her cell once more. She moved her left hand to her right wrist to feel the dried blood seeping through the cloth wrapped around her wound. What had she been thinking? What had she done?</p><p> This time there was no mysterious man in the cell next to her. She was alone with her thoughts. It was three days before Tywin finally let her out. </p><p>-</p><p>“Lady Stark, have a seat.” Moving carefully, she crossed the room and sat in the chair where she had watched Tywin intimidate members of his forces everyday. She chose not to lie to herself. After having nothing to do but think for days, she was in a fragile state. He would certainly be successful in intimidating her. She looked at her hands until Tywin spoke again. Now that he knew she was a lady, she couldn’t pretend to be ignorant of how rude it was to look away from someone as important as he when they spoke to you. </p><p>“You’ll be traveling to King’s Landing today. Upon your arrival, you will be isolated and will live in that state until your fate has been decided.” Her stomach turned. Surely if they wanted her dead they would have done it while she was still at Harrenhal? “I’m sure you’ve realized you’re no longer betrothed to King Joffrey.” A piece of meat, that’s all she was. She cleared her throat and looked back up, straight into his piercing eyes. He continued. “You will not try to escape again. You will behave. Do what you’re told and you may end up in a comfortable position.” It was hard not to scoff at that one. </p><p>“Of course, my Lord,” she replied dully. He was visibly unimpressed with her numbness. </p><p>“Do you understand me, Lady Stark?” he said, standing from his chair. She stared at a random spot in space for a few seconds before looking into his eyes and replying<br/>“Yes, my Lord.” It was no less hollow. </p><p>Emotion rose inside her for a brief moment as she processed this interaction. It was so cold and callous, no hint of the easy report they developed lingered in the study. She hadn’t just lost Arya, she’s lost the small bit of comfort that familiarity provided. </p><p>As they stood in silence regarding one another, she noticed his eyes linger on her wrists for longer than was appropriate. He didn’t seem to mind, taking time to glare at both arms. She wilted under his gaze, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from becoming hysterical in front of this man. Her enemy. <br/>Why hadn’t she taken the opportunity to cry while sitting in the cell? Where were her tears then, and why were they here now? She prayed he wasn’t perceptive enough to see the redness forming beneath her lash line or the small drops forming in the corners of her eyes. She was kidding herself, this man was a predator. He saw everything. </p><p>Then, something neither of them expected. He took a step towards her and slowly extended his arm, allowing her to adjust to his close proximity. He unconsciously admired her ability to steel herself and keep from flinching as he approached her sitting figure. It would’ve been reasonable to shrink away. He had once imagined his first contact with her skin to be gentle, but his anger at her disguise had caused him to roughly pin her against the wall. That first touch, he wasn’t sure how many days ago it was, was a grip around her throat, not a caress. Tywin was so unfamiliar with the feeling of regret that he wasn’t able to identify it and shook it off. She had reason to fear him. <br/>Still, she sat relatively motionless, only leaning back slightly and taking in a breath as she watched his hand cup her cheek. At that, the welling tears fell silently, and she shut her eyes. </p><p>He tried not to be distracted by the wrinkle of her brow as she desperately tried to keep herself together. He had seen her cry a few night’s earlier when her sister escaped. She had sunk to the floor, her face wracked with grief when she realized that her sister was in danger. That had been an open expression of pain; this face was still being controlled with every ounce of strength she had left. It couldn’t straighten her brows or turn back the tears, though. </p><p>Sansa worked hard to keep everything inside her trapped inside a little box in her mind. The shame she felt for enjoying his touch on her skin, the despair at being alone in the world, the humiliation of crying in front of Tywin Lannister. If she let herself feel all these things at the same time, she would explode. Instead she breathed evenly and packed them all away, only allowing a few tears and a strained expression to slip out. She wouldn’t think about the fact that she would rather be here with him than in King’s Landing, even if she was safer there. She couldn’t think about that. </p><p>When he could tell she thought she had herself under control, he broke her further by wiping away the tear tracks with his large thumb and then making small circular motions on her cheeks. As he guessed, this was too much for her to handle. </p><p>She tried to stifle the cry, but he took satisfaction in hearing her sob, just a little. At this moment, she couldn’t pretend it was from fear or regret. There was no hiding the fact that it was because she was going to miss this, whatever they had. Companionship? Possibly. It didn’t need a name - she was going to miss it. </p><p>She sniffed and leaned into his hand slightly, sighing. Self-hatred for willingly leaning towards a monster was another of the emotions she envisioned herself packing away. It didn’t matter now. </p><p>The entire moment, from him standing up and moving toward her to him letting his arm fall and exiting the study lasted less than a minute. It felt like a lifetime. When she was sure he was gone, she finally wept. </p><p>-</p><p>The journey to King’s Landing didn’t take long. She wasn’t provided a carriage house, but also wasn’t forced to ride physically shackled to a guard. Instead she had her own horse that was tied to the horse of one guard in the front and one guard behind her. She was anxious at first to travel with two Lannister men, after the incident when… No, she wouldn’t think about that. A part of her brain told her that Lord Tywin wouldn’t have sent her with men he thought were dangerous. Only the best to protect the key to the North. </p><p>Her instincts were correct; the two men had served Lord Tywin personally for over twenty years, and he had a stern conversation about what would happen to them if Lady Stark did not arrive in King’s Landing intact. </p><p>Sansa had vague notions about what horrors awaited her. She’d been examined by the Maester at Harrenhal and he declared her virtuous. On the one hand, she represented Tywin’s only chance at seeing his son alive again. On the other, Sansa knew it was a possibility that Jaime Lannister would escape captivity. What of her then? </p><p>The words she spoke the night that Arya and Gendry escaped had not been effective; Tywin had simply replied “no” after her plea to let Arya go. Still, they were true. Tywin wasn’t too upset by Arya’s escape given that Sansa had been correct; she was the last in line of the Stark lineage. Sansa, on the other hand, was treasure. </p><p>Sansa tried to pretend that her only value was as a trading pawn, but she was smart enough to know otherwise. When Sansa thought about the fact that Robb could lose the war before she was traded back to her family, she felt sick. She felt sicker when she thought about how Tywin fully intended to kill her brother, but she would still rather be in Harrenhal with him. The feeling of his hand on her cheek caused her to let out a deep sigh. She tried to envision the night that he forced her to confess her identity, but the memory was blurry. Her mind had decided he was her protector, at least on the grounds of Harrenhal, and it blocked out any evidence to the contrary. Sansa was aware she was going mad, but had no power to stop it.</p><p>She shook her head, trying to stop thinking about her situation. At present, all she could do was try not to think about how chafed she was from several days of horseback riding. </p><p>-</p><p>Tywin groaned. Sansa had only been gone for a few days before he started rethinking his decision. He sent her to King’s Landing because of the societal implications. Her value would decrease if people thought that Tywin Lannister had kidnapped a young maiden, put her in a tower, and had her for himself. The more prudent decision was to send her to King’s Landing. What would Robb Stark say if he found out his sister was in the lion’s clutches, alone, for months? It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t find out. Tywin wouldn’t take any chances risking impropriety, though. </p><p>He ordered his two most trustworthy guards to not let her out of their sight. This instruction was to continue even as they arrived at King’s Landing. He didn’t trust Sansa’s safety with his daughter, even if Sansa represented a chance to get Jaime back. </p><p>That wouldn’t be how they got Jaime back, though. Not if the plan he began calculating over the past several days came to fruition. The night that Arya escaped, Tywin heard Sansa’s words. She was indeed an important bartering tool. But Tywin wasn’t going to give her away; he had to find a way to get Jaime back but keep Sansa by his side. </p><p>The solution was to kill Robb Stark. End the war, and Tywin could take what he wanted. He’d keep Sansa for himself as the mother to Lannister children with Stark lineage and power. Once he made this revelation, he cut himself some slack for thinking about Lady Sansa all day everyday. Now that he had the excuse she was to be his wife, he found it more appropriate to envision her naked or recall the softness of her skin under his. There was less guilt when he considered the way he’d grip her head full of red hair while he fucked her senseless or what her Tully blue eyes would look like staring up at him with his cock in her mouth. He thought about how it would be up to him how rough or how gentle to be and she would enjoy it either way because she belonged to him, body and soul. He thought about the first time they’s have sex, him forcing himself into her tight, virgin- Tywin shut his eyes and groaned as he came into his hand. It was these moments that made Tywin curse himself for sending her away. Gods be damned, he wanted her. No, he needed her.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Low</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sansa arrives at King's Landing while Tywin deals with a rat.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! As atonement for being gone so long, here is another chapter. It's on the shorter side, but I had a lot of momentum after revising Chapter 11 and wanted to keep going. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was impossible for the memories not to come flooding back. From the moment she entered the city walls, Sansa couldn’t escape the rush of images, feelings, and the ghosts of the past that assaulted her brain. She hated thinking about how happy she’d been the first time she arrived in King’s Landing the most. Ser Sandor Clegane had once called her a “foolish girl,” and at the time she scoffed. But he had been right. </p><p>Her stomach churned while her Lannister guards helped her off of the horse and one of them rested his hand on her elbow to steer her inside a discreet entrance to the keep. It was twilight; the sky was purple with brilliant orange hues and the wind whispered softly. Sansa tried to savor it; she didn’t know the next time she’d see the sky. </p><p>She held her head high, one guard in front of her and one behind her. She was still dressed in servant’s rags and might have passed unnoticed if not for her entourage. The red cloak led her to a dark room in what she thought was the Tower of the Hand. She stayed there with her father, but at the time had been much too preoccupied by her girlish whims to remember the layout of the castle. They lit a torch for her and sealed her in. </p><p>It occurred to Sansa that her two guards had been very cordial toward her. She cowered from them most of the journey, but that had been because of her past experiences with Lannister men. They had never treated her roughly or disrespectfully. It was the same as they delivered her to her holding place; they simply shut the door behind them when they left and the lock clicked into place. </p><p>Sansa took in her surroundings. A tiny bed, a stand with a decanter on it, and a desk. There was no window, but she hadn’t expected there to be. She knew that living in this space was far better than something like the cells of Harrenhal. It would be a comfortable place to wait until… Until something happened. She just didn’t know what. </p><p>-</p><p>Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a good night’s sleep, and the first night in her new habitat was no different. After sleeping on a straw palette for months, the thin mattress was too soft. There was a time in her life when she would’ve balked at the idea of sleeping on such thin materials (she guessed it was stuffed with hay) but now it felt like a luxury. She tossed and turned, anxious about Arya and Gendry. Would she know if they’d been caught. Surely the news would have traveled. Then again, many people, her family included, never knew that the girls had left King’s Landing in the first place. </p><p>Her thoughts were interrupted by the door to her little room banging open and filling with shouting. </p><p>“Get up! Now!” screamed a man as he rushed toward her. She only had time to be startled awake by the noise before rough hands grabbed each arm and tossed her out of the bed. </p><p>“The King has requested an audience,” said one of the men with a laugh. Sansa looked up at him from where she had been thrown on the floor, eyes pleading. She saw no mercy. </p><p>-</p><p>“Lord Baelish,” Tywin said without glancing up. He could smell the man’s perfume before he entered his study. </p><p>“Lord Lannister,” Baelish replied. Tywin could feel the man’s eyes hungrily scanning the room for his cup bearer. He was in for a surprise. </p><p>Tywin let the man stand uncomfortably for a few more moments before finally looking up and sighing. </p><p>“What brings you to Harrenhal this time? I’m sure you’ve noticed that my cup bearer isn’t here for you to paw at,” he said with disgust. It didn’t matter that Tywin himself spent most days imagining what it would be like to paw at her himself. Her breasts were small but perky, and he imagined how her nipples would harden as he gripped each breast while he took her from behind and-</p><p>Baelish cleared his throat. </p><p>“I returned because I have some information you might be interested in,” he began. His hands rested on the back of the chair across from Tywin and with a roll of his eyes, Tywin acknowledged him and allowed him to sit. Tywin had hated the man before he knew that he had accosted Mee- Sansa, he corrected himself. The knowledge that he had kissed her fueled his hatred even more. Tywin could have kissed Sansa while she slept in his chambers, which happened at least twice. But he had ruined their first skin to skin contact by losing his temper and choking her against a wall. He would make up for it by making the first kiss something pleasant; not a violation of her person while she slept. </p><p>“Go on,” said Tywin, sounding bored. </p><p>“It seems as though the ladies Sansa and Arya Stark escaped King’s Landing after their father’s death.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” replied Tywin. He would have been amused, but he already knew the snake had come back to rat out Sansa. </p><p>“Yes, it seems that your daughter let the girls escape very shortly after the execution of Ned Stark. As to where they are now, that’s hard to say. A search effort might be bolstered by a reward for their capture,” he said casually.<br/>
The man was even more of a rat than Tywin thought. His plan was to turn Sansa over and collect a reward. But he didn’t know that Tywin had already caught on and send her back to King’s Landing. </p><p>“I would of course pay handsomely for any information regarding their whereabouts,” Tywin said dryly.  </p><p>“I’ll have some men begin the search right away,” said Baelish with an annoying air of confidence. </p><p>“I do wonder though,” Tywin started and stood from his seat. He towered over the other man. “Why you didn’t recognize my cup bearer as Sansa Stark the last time you were here.” Petyr was good at schooling his expressions, but not as good as Tywin. Tywin saw him pale slightly and fear crinkled in the corner of his eyes. </p><p>“Lady Stark? Your cup bearer?” feigning confusion. Baelish stood as well and moved casually to the wine stand, which was close to the exit. </p><p>“Yes. Lady Stark posed as my cup bearer for two and a half months, and if I recall, you took particular interest in her. Why, Lord Baelish, did you fail to recognize her then?” Tywin’s eyes were hard and intimidating. A less experienced man would stutter, but Baelish was skilled in the art of lying. </p><p>“That girl didn’t resemble Sansa Stark at all. She was emaciated and covered in filth.”</p><p>“That didn’t stop you from putting your hands on her,” Tywin said evenly. He could see the first glimmer of real fear in Baelish’s eyes. Good. </p><p>“What did she say to you? She’s a traitor to the realm, you can’t possibly believe-”</p><p>“She didn’t tell me anything. When I found out who she was, she had no reason to protect you. If she wanted revenge she could have easily told me that you recognized her but didn’t say anything, which makes you a traitor to the realm as well.”</p><p>“Revenge? Why would Lady Sansa want-”</p><p>“Come now, Petyr. The role you played in Ned Stark’s death isn’t exactly a secret.” Baelish swallowed, almost imperceptibly. Clearly, he thought it was a secret. “I know your nature though, so I do wonder what kind of deal you made with her to buy your silence.” Tywin’s anger was becoming palpable. It radiated off of him and Baelish took a step backward towards the door. </p><p>“I wouldn’t-”</p><p>“Of course you would. And of course you did. Tell me, did you threaten a highborn lady with rape? What did she give you?” Tywin was speaking quietly but the words were laced with venom. </p><p>“My Lord, I never-”<br/>
“Yes you did!” Tywin roared. “You saw a helpless young girl, alone in the world, and instead of helping her you tried to fuck her. You let your desire turn you into a monster. Did you once consider how afraid she must have been? And all you could think about was how to stick your cock in her without getting in trouble for it. Get out of my sight.” Baelish’s mouth hung slightly open at the outburst but knew he had to get out of there as soon as possible. When he opened the door, Lannister guards stood ready. </p><p>“You’re still in trouble Baelish. You should have fucked her when you had the chance,” he growled. Baelish resisted as the guards led him to the cells of Harrenhal, and Tywin sat back down at his desk, rubbing his fingers across his tensed forehead. </p><p>He was angry at Petyr Baelish, but the outburst hadn’t been directed at him. No, Tywin had been talking about himself. He let his desire turn him into a monster, and for one of the first times in his life, Tywin Lannister felt guilty.</p>
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